#but even her workplace would probably tell her not to wear

[janeyseymour]

All To Myself

requested by @schemmentisbaby

Summary: Your little girl is getting ready to go to Abbott- not that your wife's coworkers know.

WC: ~3.6k

Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Abbott Elementary, your wife, and mother to your beautiful little girl: Grace Marie. Melissa Schemmenti, a woman who rarely talks about herself, so all that her coworkers know about her is that she’s married- and even then, she wishes they didn’t know that. It’s not that she has anything to hide or like she’s ashamed of you, but after growing up the way that she did, she’s learned that keeping her mouth shut about personal information is probably for the best. The fact that people know she’s a Schemmenti holds enough weight as it is.

Your wife has been able to keep it quiet that she has a little girl due to the fact that while she is present on Facebook, and so are you, there are very few people that she has on there. The only people that she’s so graciously allowed to friend her on that social media app are you, her family (yes, Kristen Marie included), and one Mrs. Barbara Howard. Those that are present on your social media aren’t aware of the weight that your last name now holds, having grown up just outside of Philly in the suburbs. So when you post images or updates on how your life is going, it doesn’t much matter, and Melissa doesn’t mind.

The second grade teacher has been relatively successful at keeping the personal and professional lives from mixing. That is going to change though, because Gracie is getting ready to head into kindergarten at none other than Willard R. Abbott Elementary School.

“Hun,” you sigh to your wife quietly as the two of you begin to grasp the fact that Grace is going to be attending your wife’s workplace.

“I just didn’t think it was going to be happening so soon,” Melissa mumbles. “I mean, it’s like she was born yesterday, and now she’s getting ready to enter kindergarten.”

“You’re telling me,” you chuckle. “I feel like we were hearing her heartbeat for the first time, and now we’re getting ready to send our baby to school.”

“Jesus, we’re gettin’ old.”

As it turns out, Grace is more than excited to be heading to school- she’s so excited to see the place where her mother works, and she can’t wait to be a big kid. And luck just so has it that your daughter is placed in her Aunt Barbie’s class.

“I get to be with Aunt Barbie all day?!” Grace squeals out with excitement when you tell her who her kindergarten teacher is.

You can’t help but chuckle at how precious she is. “You do, but at school she’s Mrs. Howard, yeah?”

Your little girl nods her head with enthusiasm. “When do I get to go?”

“School starts in two weeks, but Mommy goes in next week,” Melissa tells your little girl at the dinner table. “And on that Wednesday, they have a special night for kindergarteners to meet their teachers and get familiar with the school.”

“I can’t wait for school!”

“Oh, but I can,” your wife grumbles so that only you can hear her.

The day before Melissa goes back to Abbott for professional development days, she’s a bit more moody than usual. Because of this, your little girl spends most of the day with you. The redhead is stressed beyond belief trying to ensure that she has everything packed into her car to take to the school for the new year. She’s focusing on meal prepping so she can just grab things and go. Her outfit for whatever reason is stressing her out more than it usually would.

“Honey,” you mumble as she stands in your closet staring at all of her shirts. You wrap your arms around her waist and set your chin on her shoulder before kissing her neck gently. She hums as she leans into your affections.

“What has you so worked up tonight?” you prod gently. “Usually you don’t care what you wear to work.”

“I just… these are the last few days where my coworkers will see me as just Melissa, not Grace’s mother,” she admits. “Reminds me I’m gettin’ older.”

“We are getting older,” you remind her. “But that just means that we’re one step closer to retirement, to having a beautiful daughter to take care of us, more years of love under our belt.”

Your wife sighs softly and cranes her neck to look at you. “How do you always know what to say to help calm me down?”

“We’ve been married for years,” you chuckle. “Practice.”

The next morning, Grace cannot for the life of her understand why she doesn’t get to go with Melissa to her new school. She’s gotten herself dressed and ready, adorned with the backpack that is just about the size of her, and her new sparkly shoes.

“Mi amore,” your wife sighs as she kneels down to pull your daughter into a hug. “Mommy has to go do boring things at the school. Trust me when I tell you, you would rather stay with Momma and play at home for these last few days.”

“But I want you!” your little girl pouts. “I want Aunt Barbie!”

“And you’ll get me tonight,” Melissa tries to placate. “And I will talk to Aunt Barbie and see if she can come over today after work to play for a little bit, how does that sound?”

That seems to satisfy your daughter who comes bouncing over to you. She curls into your arms as your wife makes her way out the door.

At work, the redhead is happy to see her work wife, but she isn’t necessarily thrilled to be back at work for the school year.

“I saw Gracie’s name on my list for this year,” Barbara whispers to her friend when she’s certain no one else can hear.

“She’s real excited to have you as her kindergarten teacher,” Melissa chuckles softly. “She’s asking for you already. I told her I would see if you could come over after work today.”

“She’ll be sick of me by the end of this year,” the kindergarten teacher laughs.

Green eyes are rolled. “I doubt that. I’m fairly certain my kid loves you more than she loves me or Y/N.”

“You know your little girl has the most love for her mothers,” Barb smirks. “And then of course for Aunt Barbie. I’ll be there.”

“And I’m going to need every hand on deck for kindergarten orientation on Wednesday,” Ava announces. “This is the biggest class to come through Abbott since the 90s.”

“No can do,” Melissa states in front of everyone. “Have business I need to take care of, and it ain’t like you’re payin’ me.” She shoots her boss a look that dares her to challenge.

The principal quirks her lips to the side before rolling her eyes and sighing loudly. “Every hand on deck except for Red Hot.”

After the workday is done, the kindergarten and second grade teachers make their way back to your house. You and your little girl are sitting in the living room reading a book when you hear the front door open and close. All thoughts of the game are abandoned when Gracie jumps to her feet and goes to the door as fast as her little legs will take her. She launches herself at Melissa, who catches her with ease. Then she’s throwing herself at Barbara, who has just barely kneeled down to embrace her.

“How’s my baby girl?” Barbara asks as she kisses your daughter’s head.

Your little girl soaks up the attention. “Good! I want to go to school though.”

“Well, that comes next week, but I’m sure Mommy’s told you about how you’ll get to come see my classroom in a few days.” When Grace nods with excitement, Barbara continues. “And I know at home I’m Aunt Barbie, but at school I have to be Mrs. Howard. Think you can remember that for me, baby?”

“Pinky swears,” your daughter holds out her pinky with a grin.

“That’s my girl,” the kindergarten teacher smiles as she links pinkies with your little girl. “Now, what are we going to do today?”

Come Wednesday, after a long day of professional development in the morning and prepping for open house on Thursday, Melissa comes home to you and your excitable daughter.

“Mommy!” Grace goes running over to the front door, abandoning her station to help you prepare dinner.

“Mi amore,” your wife sighs happily as she lifts your daughter to her hip. “My beautiful girl.”

Grace giggles incessantly as the teacher pecks her cheeks continuously. Then your wife is making her way over to you.

“My gorgeous wife,” she whispers as she kisses you softly. “You’re the best.”

“I’m making your favorite,” you tell her quietly as you lean in to kiss her again.

Grace makes a face at your affections. “Ew, moms. Stop kissin’!”

The two of you roll your eyes in a playful manner. “You know I just love your momma so much,” Melissa laughs that low laugh that you find irresistible. She kisses you again.

“Are you ready to go see Aunt Barbie and your new school?” the redhead asks gently as she sets your daughter back down on the chair you have pulled up to the counter.

“Mrs. Howard,” Grace corrects with a toothy smile as she picks up the spoon to begin mixing the salad again.

Melissa rolls her eyes and pokes your daughter in the belly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

After dinner, your family makes their way down to Abbott. Grace clings to your hand the entire time. At the thought of going to a new school, she was excited. But now that the time is upon her, she’s nervous.

“It’ll all be okay, Gracie girl,” Melissa promises. “You know Mommy wouldn’t work here or let you go here if it wasn’t a good place to be.”

That seems to settle your daughter’s nerves just slightly, but she still remains close to you.

You and Grace walk in and head right to the little check in, knowing immediately where to go. Barbara just smiles and checks off your daughter’s name before greeting your wife who is trailing a few paces behind.

“Melissa!” you hear the boisterous voice of the principal of the school. “You said you wasn’t coming!”

Your wife just rolls her eyes and shrugs. “What can I say?”

The incoming class of kindergarteners are ushered into the gym for a quick presentation of teachers that they might come across throughout the school year. Of course, Barbara is up on the stage with all of the kindergarten teachers, but so is your wife and the rest of her work crew, as well as some other staff members that she rarely mentions.

Once that’s over with, they begin to move the children down to the classrooms that they’ll be spending most of their time in for the year. Grace takes your hand gently and guides you towards the correct line.

Abbott is a special school, you can see that just by walking through the halls. It’s filled with artwork from students, there are several plaques with various award titles on them, the teachers who are helping to guide students around are warm. Aside from the odd lingering smell, you can understand why Melissa works here and has worked here for years. 

Your wife lingers in the room under the guise of just helping out her work wife- it makes sense to the rest of the staff that she would go with Barbara. Grace finds her desk with ease, knowing all of the letters in her name. She squeals with happiness when she sees the few little goodies that Mrs. Howard left on the students’ desks.

“Momma,” your little girl tugs on your shirt. “Sit with me?”

You oblige her request with a smile, settling in her chair before pulling her on top of you. Grace brightens and gives your wife a thumbs up before beginning to color the princess page Barbara had placed there. You can’t help but press a soft kiss to your girl’s temple before looking up at your wife with a smile. She’s absolutely precious. Melissa tries to hide the fact that she was sneaking a picture of the two of you, but it’s no use. Her cheeks tint just slightly red before shrugging her shoulders with a bashful smile.

The rest of your daughter’s class settles in and is allowed to color for a few moments while Barbara and Melissa chat with parents- no doubt answering questions that will surely be answered within the next few minutes.

Your wife’s boss makes her way into the classroom, and she eyes the redhead warily before teasing her. “I shoulda known you’d find your way into Barb’s classroom.”

“Well, she is-”

“I don’ care,” Ava states. She turns to scan the room, and her eyes immediately land on you. She winks.

You have to fight to roll your eyes. It’s funny that she chose you to focus in on, but it will be even funnier when she realizes that she just hit on her shadiest teacher’s wife.

Before the principal can say anything too out of line, Barbara claps her hands together and begins her spiel about herself as a teacher, the classroom that the students will be in, and the school itself.

Grace seems more than content to sit in your lap and color quietly while Melissa nods along to the things that her work wife is saying. She knows it all already, but it’s nice hearing what will be expected of your little girl while she’s in Barb’s classroom.

“And now, while the parents are filling out the paperwork necessary for the beginning of the school year, I figured I might take the students on a walking tour of the areas in the school that they’ll be in,” the kindergarten teacher explains with a clap of her hands. “So, we’re going to practice lining up and walking in the hallways like big kindergarteners.”

She manages to line up the entire class quietly before walking them out the door with Melissa. You sigh and begin to quietly fill out the paperwork for your little girl. It’s a while before you hear footsteps come back into the room, just as you’re getting ready to write down Melissa’s name under the second guardian spot. When you look up, you expect to see Barbara, your wife, and the students in tow. Instead, it’s Ava again, and she’s looking directly at you- you can practically feel her eyes on you.

“Does anybody have any questions about Abbott?” the principal asks.

A few hands go up, but she blatantly ignores them. She points to you. “What about you, angel face?”

Your brow goes up. “I think I’m all good, but thank you.”

“Surely you can’t know everything there is to know about this school,” Ava frowns. “You have to have at least one question.”

“Not that I can think of,” you tell her. If you do think of a question, you doubt she’ll know the answer to it anyway.

“Is that little girl of yours your first one to go through Abbott?”

You nod. “But I know all about this school.”

“Oh?” Ava smirks. “You did your research?”

Instead of telling her that your wife is Melissa, you just nod. Sure, you had done your research and asked your wife about the building, but you know the ins and outs of this school- the things that go on behind the scenes. 

You think that’s the end of the conversation and start to write “Mrs.”, but she makes her way further into the room, and she stands over you sitting at a student desk.

“Where’s the wife?” Ava asks you as she leans against the desk. She drapes a gentle hand over your wrist. “Because I know someone as fine as you has one.”

You look up to her with a smirk before beginning to write down Melissa’s name.

Almost comically, the principal gasps and her hands fly to her mouth. She stands straight up. “You ain’t telling me Melissa is your wife, are you?!”

With impeccable timing, Melissa walks back into the classroom with Barbara and the kindergarteners. 

“I am,” is all your wife states as she folds her arms over her chest and stares down her boss. “Why? You got something to-”

“Bye, y’all,” Ava runs out of the classroom as quickly as she had come in.

Barbara just looks to you with the silent question of if the principal was flirting with you, and you nod subtly.

Your wife sees red for a split second before she makes her way over to you with your daughter and wraps her arm around the top of your shoulders.

“Idiot,” Melissa grumbles as she plants a kiss to the top of your head. “Flirting with my wife like that.”

You reach up a hand and lay yours gently over hers. “She didn’t know because you didn’t tell her.”

“‘Cause she has no business knowin’ about my personal life,” your wife mutters.

“She will now,” you remind her. “Grace is goin’ here now, and you know that Ava’s gonna open her mouth about it the first chance she gets.”

“Which will be once everyone is out of the school, and we somehow get corralled into helping break everything,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

It’s a bit of time before Ava makes the announcement that all families should head out of the building to allow the teachers to get home for the night. But when you think that Melissa is going to try to book it out of there as quickly as possible, she begins to help her work wife straighten up her classroom.

You know that the two of them are quite close, but it is something else to see them working together in silence. It’s like how you and Melissa work- in sync, with ease, naturally.

And then the rest of the group begins to come in, asking questions before they even fully enter the room to see you and your little girl sitting quietly on the carpet reading a book together. Okay, you’re reading, but Grace is touching each word as you read.

You pause your reading as the boisterous group comes in. Their eyes immediately go to you, and they halt their questioning.

“I’m sorry,” a shorter woman, who you can only assume is Janine, speaks quietly. “I didn’t realize you still had a student in the room.”

“They’re fine,” Melissa cuts in before anyone else can say anything. “They’re with me.”

Gregory furrows his brow. “Why would they-”

“Melissa Schemmenti, when the hell was you goin’ to tell us you have a daughter that was going to come to Abbott?!” the principal yells as she struts in. “And that your wife was fine as-” She cuts herself off at the challenging look green eyes give her.

“They’re with me because that’s my wife and my daughter,” the redhead points to the two of you. “Gracie, come say hi to Mommy’s friends.”

Your little girl jumps out of your lap and runs over to your wife, who lifts her onto her hip with ease. “I’m Gracie, and I’m five!” she holds out an entire hand for emphasis. Her smile is enough to melt their hearts.

“Oh, Mel Mel, she’s so cute,” Jacob grins as he high fives your daughter.

“Mi amore,” Melissa jerks her head for you to come over.

“Y/N,” you smile that charming smile of yours as you wrap an arm around the Melissa. “Mrs. Schemmenti, if you will.”

“How the hell didn’t we know about this now?” Mr. Johnson wrinkles his nose. “That’s a load of bull… trash.”

Emerald eyes are rolled. “Because the boss don’t look at the rosters to know who’s comin’ in.”

“I did!”

“Did you?” Janine narrows her eyes as she looks to the principal. 

Ava looks offended. “So what if I did or did not? Overseeing an entire school is hard! It ain’t my fault Melissa never told us she had a daughter!”

“You didn’t tell them about me?” Grace frowns, and she looks a bit wounded by that knowledge.

“Mommy just wanted you all to herself,” your wife promises as she dots a few kisses along your daughter’s hairline.

That seems to placate your daughter, who snuggles right back up to the redhead before yawning. “Aunt Barbie is my teacher.”

“She is,” you chuckle as you smooth down a few of her wild locks. “But at school she’s Mrs. Howard, remember?”

“Mrs. Howard is my teacher,” your little girl yawns out.

“I think it’s about time we head home,” Melissa chuckles softly. She looks to you. “Are you about ready t’head out?”

You nod and grab your purse from where Grace will be sitting next Monday. “Well, it was really nice to finally meet you all,” you chuckle out. “I know she’s in good hands here at Abbott.”

The group seems to have more questions for the redhead that is quickly escorting you out, but she ignores them and ushers you out.

Just as you’re leaving, Ava shouts down the hallway, “Girl, don’t think we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout how youse are milfs tomorrow!”

There’s a loud chorus of “Ava!” that can be heard right after. You have to hide the smile. You’re already well aware that your wife is hot.

“Momma?” Grace looks to you with curious eyes.

“Yeah baby?” you ask.

“What’s a milf?”

“Ava is dead tomorrow,” your wife grumbles.

“You love your boss, and your coworkers,” you remind her.

Melissa sighs heavily. “They’re freakin’ lucky.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[notsoevilpepsi]

Family might just get a bunch of t-shirts for christmas tbh 👀👀

& I might send a couple of these links to my sister just like 'I want these' xP

[jaysng]

when your daughter walks in on you | pjs

pairing: husband!jay x wife!reader

genre: married au, comedy (tried my best), fluff

warnings: suggestive, jay sucking boobs like a madman

your husband has had an exhausting week and needed some way to relieve the stress he had related to his workplace. 

and that’s why, you were here know trapped in his hold in the kitchen, “missed you s’much baby” he said as he open mouthed-ly(?) tracing your neck leaving kissed and licks here and there til he reached your earlobe. 

as soon as you opened the door, he looked at you, yes with those goddamn eyes. next thing you know, you’re pulling him from his tie. “fuck can we do this? like in here—“ he asks as he lifts you up easily in one go and puts you on the counter“i have put her to sleep, use me all you want jay.” 

the approval was enough for jay to let his guard down as he dives in again attaching your lips with his, you were wearing a cute loose set of night wear with easy access, in one swift move he pulled your top down by the shoulders as he took a step back appreciating your mounds. 

giving each attention one by one, jay knew how needy you grew when he gave most of his attention to your chest he took your left nipple between his fingers and pinched it, fondling with the other one all while keeping eye contact.

“l-lick them jongseong, feels s’good when you do that” you said as you kept your hand on his, the one massaging your breast as he bend and took one of it in his mouth.

licking, sucking, making out messily with saliva everywhere as you arched your back with your hand on his hair and the other on your mouth to not disturb your ‘sleeping’ daugther. 

few minutes into it, jay felt your body really stiff, not squirming or whimpering anymore, maybe she’s too lost in i—

“appa don’t you think you’re abit to old to be doing that?” 

shit

shit

shit

oh fuck

his head shoots to the direction of the stairs as he sees your 4 year old daughter, half sleepy half astonished, wiping her eyes with her chubby hands. 

now standing straight, not knowing what to do he stares into blank space for a while then stares at you

blink

blink

“ah, yes.. baby uh…” you say breaking the silence as you thought, was better than the silence. “didn’t you say she’s asleep” he whispers, almost just mouths while shooting his big wide eyes at you. 

brushing a hand through your hair, you get of the counter “could’ve atleast pulled my shirt back up jay” you mouth another sentence at him blaming him in panic while fixing your top. 

“baby, weren’t you sleeping?” you ask as walk to her and run a hand over her head, “i dunno… eomma i heard sounds… breaking sounds! i thought bad people came in..” she says, still clumbsy with her words as you chuckled, 

“oh well, uh mommy and daddy were playing a game okay?” you mentally face palm yourself as you hear jay’s embarrassing made up excuse, still funny as even you were out of excuses— i mean what the hell would you tell your 4 year old daughter who just walked in on your husband with your titty in his mouth?? 

“hmm” she says as she looks around, honestly not taken aback or interested in it at all, thank god thank god she was in her sleepy state “i want ice cream” she demands as jay now picks her up in his arms.

the sigh of relief that left both of your mouth were synchronized, you knew your daughter and how she doesn’t process anything when she has just woken up, similarly and gladly this was the case as for what she just saw. 

“you can’t have ice cream baby, it’s midnight.” jay coos at her as she puts her face on jay’s neck and nods already drowsy and sleepy, you felt bad for her to be woken up and disturbed like that. 

shooting at sorry glance at jay who was pretty much sulky right now as the sexual tension was ‘ruined’ and probably not coming back again for today as your daughter was pretty much stuck by the glue to his chest as she slept.

putting her to bed, you entered the room as you found jay on the bed hands splayed around the bed, as the baby slept peacefully in her room now, the two of you exchanged knowing glances and started quietly chortling over what just happened

“a message would be good?” you say between the laughter sitting beside his laying figure putting his head on you lap. 

“massage it is.” he says, smiling with embarrassment.

[seokgyuu]

After your flawless job-interview, Seokmin hires you as the newest addition to his company. Just that, once you start, it seems like you’re not who you previously portrayed to be. Instead, he finds himself faced with mini-skirts, push-up bras and gawking co-workers, not to mention your absolute lack of work ethic. Obviously, he needs to fire you! Just that, when he tries to… you simply don’t let him.

Pairing: Boss!Seokmin x Employee!F!Reader

Genre: Porn with the smallest bits of plot, workplace “romance”, Smut MDNI!

Warnings: Morally gray characters, Seokmin is obviously reader’s boss and shouldn’t be fucking her, power imbalance, reader gets objectified a lot, but she enjoys it, reader is… acting very dumb (on purpose), Smut warnings under the cut!

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hi everyone!! welcome to this little work of… filth! Making my return with a Seokmin fic just felt right (also I just could not stop thinking about this). Please let me know what you think with a reply or a reblog, it would mean the world to me!! also a big thanks to @shadowkoo for making this AMAZING banner and to @bitchlessdino for beta-ing!!

tagging: @okiedokrie, @inkchwe, @shinysobi, @gyuhanniescarat, @haologram, @beomcoups @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics (just some of my fellow dk enjoyers)

Smut Warnings: oral (m receiving), face fucking, praise (good girl, etc.), degradation (whore, etc.), unprotected sex, titjob, breeding, usage of the word “Sir” in a sexual context, tell me if i missed anything!

His phone rings. The Harry Potter title music is playing, letting him know it’s his sister calling. He can’t pick up, or well, no, he can, considering his hands are free, but he probably shouldn’t.

Having talks with his employees about having to let them go is Seokmin’s least favorite thing about being the boss. He never wants anyone to feel like they weren’t good enough or couldn’t live up to any expectations, but sometimes… sometimes it was inevitable.

Like with you.

When you had first walked into your interview, you impressed him with your sharp tongue and your witty humor. Your resume looked perfect for the job, and your previous experience was exactly what he needed. He hired you the following week and deemed his decision a good one - until you showed up for your first day.

See, before anything else, Seokmin is simply just a man. A man with eyes and needs and desires.

The mini skirt barely covered your backside, showed off your legs and those perfect thighs you had hidden from sight before. Your dress shirt would have been fine for the office if only it wasn’t… half open. Or at least open enough to see your breasts almost falling out of your push-up bra.

He knew back then that he should say something. Tell you that this wasn’t appropriate to wear to work. But he didn’t. For the same reason, his mostly male staff began coming into work more punctually, more eagerly and stayed for even longer hours.

It was a mistake, he thinks now, not to say anything to you on your first day. Or any other day after that.

A mistake or the single best decision he had ever made.

Truth be told, he’d never called you into his office to discuss his decision to let you go if it was only about the clothes (or lack thereof) you wore to work. No, he was fine with the clothes, more than fine, actually, if you took just one look at the amount of tissues discarded in his office’s trash can.

But… you lacked certain skills he had thought you’d easily have, considering your previous jobs. You struggled doing, in his opinion, the most basic tasks, and more or less let the others do the work for you. The work he paid you to do. Instead, you sat at your desk all day and played Solitaire or scrolled on Instagram.

The two of you almost never interacted, mainly because he was scared to say the wrong thing or stare too long at your breasts he couldn’t stop thinking about anyway. When it did happen that he had to talk to you, it mostly went with him going back to his office with a raging boner and a guilty conscience.

One time, he brought back some prints from the copy room, only to find out you had been the one to print them. When he asked around the room and you were the one to raise your hand and get up from your chair he almost choked on his spit. You made your way over him, your tight dress hugging every single one of your curves, the slit in the side showing off where your stockings began, the neckline down far enough for him to see the lacy material of your bra once again.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee, Sir,” you smiled at him, your fingers touching his when you reached for the pile of papers. He felt like you shot him and as a result, he shot a huge load of cum into one of his tissues when he was back in his office.

Then, he met you at the coffee maker one time, witnessing you eat a fucking banana in one god damned bite. He couldn’t believe his eyes when you basically deepthroated the fruit all while looking directly into his eyes. He popped a boner right then and there.

All in all, it was safe to say the woman he had met in the interview was gone and he had absolutely no clue why or how he had let you fool him that day you met.

A part of him was angry at himself for letting it get this far, but he couldn’t deny that with every glimpse of your exposed ass and tits, with every encounter like the prints or the banana, he decided to give you one last chance to prove yourself. So far he had given you about 151 chances and you’d screwed up all of them.

Which is how he ended up calling you into his office.

Which is how you ended up sitting in front of his desk on one of the comfortable dark red armchairs, your legs crossed, yet another mini-skirt rising up far enough for Seokmin to at least imagine he can smell you. The shirt you were wearing was tight and cropped and your blazer was lazily hung over the back of the armchair.

“So, Y/N,” he began, shifting on his seat and trying very hard not to look at your tits, “do you have any idea why I called you in here?”

You shook your head no.

“No, sir, I don’t. Did I do something wrong?”

Sir. Oh good lord, Seokmin had to swallow down the pathetic moan he feels creeping up his throat.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I have noticed that you’ve been handing your work off to Chan a lot. Soonyoung as well, and while I understand you’re the newest employee, you have been here for almost five months now, Y/N, and I did expect you to already, you know, do at least a certain amount of work by yourself.”

Your eyes widened the more he spoke, your pout prominent once he finished.

“I’m sorry, Sir, truly! They always offered to help me and I just- I just didn’t want to disappoint them,” your voice strained, almost sounding like you were about to start crying. Seokmin felt his heart speed up.

“I understand that. But still - it must make sense to you that-,”

You jumping up from your chair made him stop mid sentence. He watched how you stalked over to him, your big eyes staring him down with something he couldn’t pinpoint even if he tried.

“It does make sense, Sir, and I want to apologize. I can do better, please don’t fire me.”

Seokmin was frozen in his chair, his seated figure looking up at you, almost panicking when he realized how close you were. If he raised his hand now, he could touch your thigh, could let it slip higher, could-

“Please, Mr. Lee, I’d do anything to keep this job.”

Which is how we get to… now.

His phone is still ringing on the desk, but he’s still nowhere near answering it. He is too focused on your mouth around his rock-hard cock, on the way you look up at him with watery eyes, on the way your hand is fondling his aching balls.

You dropping to your knees might have been the single most hottest thing he has ever seen before. Or well, maybe this right now tops it. Your tongue is flat against his shaft, dragging it along his veins, licking up all the precum that doesn’t directly land in your mouth. You suck on his tip, tease his slit, and moan when you take him all the way.

And Seokmin? He thinks he might have just entered heaven. His hands are itching to touch you, to push you down and fuck up, to lose control, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you with his mouth dropped, with his heart going at triple speed in his chest.

This is wrong. So, so wrong! He shouldn’t let you suck his cock as a way to keep your job, for god’s sake!

Once his tip crashes against the back of your throat, his mind goes blank, and all the thoughts from before disappear. They make room for new thoughts instead, thoughts that finally allow him to do what he wanted to from the second you had walked in on your first day.

The groan he lets out causes you to drip into your panties. And the way his hands now find the back of your head almost makes you come. Your eyes roll back for a second, before you bring them back to look at your boss.

Your extremely hot, perfect boss who took so fucking long to bring you into his office. Who could not take a hint at-fucking-all.

He begins to thrust up into your throat, letting out moans you wish you could record and replay as many times as you wished. His cock is big, just as big as you had hoped it to be. He’s veiny and perfect and his angry red tip is going to become your favorite thing to suck on. He tastes salty and sweet and bitter at the same time, melts on your tongue, and gets you to clench around absolutely nothing.

“Fuck,” he cries out when he picks up his speed, nails digging into your scalp as he continues his hard and fast thrusts, his cock beginning to twitch, his balls tightening dangerously. You need him, want him and almost demand him to come down your throat. To give you everything he has to offer. You press your tongue harder against his shaft, cheeks hollowed out, and you can feel his orgasm nearing with every passing second.

“I’m gonna- fu-fuck, I’m gonna c-come!” His cry is almost taking you over the edge too.

Seokmin sees red and white at the same time, opens his eyes, and stares down at you with his pupils blown and his cock finally emptying his seed inside your awaiting mouth. It almost breaks him, seeing how you swallow all of his cum like a pro, never breaking eye contact.

Breathless, Seokmin slowly gets down from his high, watching how you lick up his cock, your eyes twinkling with mischief, giving his tip a small kiss before finally leaning back, batting your eyelashes.

“So tasty, Mr. Lee. Now, should I get back to work?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It kind of becomes a thing. At the beginning, Seokmin calls you into his office and you suck his cock, make him come, go back to work. All while still wearing your skimpy outfits to work and doing the minimum requirements to not be a complete waste of Seokmin’s money. Even though he figures with a cold shiver running down his spine, it seems like he’s paying you for something totally different now.

You’re enjoying this to the fullest, having a right out blast. Not just because you get to have Seokmin fuck your throat every other day, no, but because of how he looks at you. When you met him that first day at the interview, you already knew you wanted him. Knew he was going to be your next little project. So far you had never failed, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start now.

Working at the company for five months hadn’t exactly been your plan, though. Five months until he finally called you into his office. Five months of you choosing the most outrageous outfits, knowing every single man in that office wanted a taste of you, but only wanting one of them to actually act on it.

“Holy fucking hell, yeah, just- just like that,” he’s leaning against the wall behind his desk, you back on your knees, his cock hitting the soft inside of your cheek over and over again. He’s holding onto your hair with one hand while the other is pressed against the wall next to him. You lick and suck and fuck his cock against your cheek, drool running down your chin. You’re painfully wet, throbbing, and needing him to finally put his cock in you.

By now (3 weeks after your little blowjob-job started) you know his tells, can sense when he’s about to come. So, when you hear that first little noise, you let go of his cock with a plop and get up. Seokmin’s eyes open and he looks at you, visibly confused.

“Wha-,” he begins, but you just take a step forward and crush your lips against his, your hands grabbing his face.

For the first few seconds, Seokmin doesn’t really grasp the situation. You’re kissing him. He begins to melt, his hands somehow finding their way to your waist and when you lead him back, suddenly seated on his desk, his mind goes blank. You want him to fuck you. Want his cock to go inside that probably sweet tasting pussy of yours. He moans into your mouth.

“Take me, Mr. Lee, please, need your cock in me, need you to fuck me,” you whisper into his ear, biting his earlobe after and sighing in relief when he immediately moves to get your panties off of you.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot.” He kisses you again, wild and uncontrolled, your panties now landing on the floor. You part your legs and grab his cock, bringing it to your awaiting entrance. There is no stopping the moan that escapes you once his tip slips in, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip harshly. He licks over your teeth, feels his mind fog up, no thoughts just you, you, you.

Then, he’s fully inside of you. Twitches, groans, kisses you harder. And fucks you like a god-damned beast.

The pace he sets is brutal and you’re lucky it’s after hours so no one is at the office anymore. They for sure would have heard the way the desk is bouncing against the floor with every thrust as well as your high pitched moans, and Seokmin’s low growls.

He fucks you like he owns you and you live for it. His cock drags along your walls, fills you like he was made for you, hits your sweet spot over and over again as if he’d done this thousand times before.

“Fuck, yes!” You basically scream, your body falling backward, only his strong hands holding you up as he speeds up once more.

“God, shit, how are you so tight, baby?” He moves to kiss your neck, licks over the salty skin, revels in your taste, in the way you shiver under his touch. You wanna scream and cry and mark his body with your mouth and nails - and so you begin to pull on the hem of his shirt, which he gladly helps you to take off completely.

He’s built like a god. Wide shoulders, bulked up arms, abs like they were painted on. You let your nails drag over his torso, finally sliding them to his strong, muscular back. When he pushes into you even more, his lips not getting enough of your own, you dig into his flesh and hear him hiss. Still, he doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes even harder. Fucks you til you scream his name while experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life, milking his cock of all he had, cum filling your pussy to the brim.

After that it spirals.

He fucks you every chance he gets. He is addicted to you and your pussy. Whenever he needs you, he gets to have you.

He bends you over his desk during work hours, drilling into your pussy like a mad man while pressing his hand over your mouth to make sure no one notices. He comes inside you and stuffs it all back in there with his fingers, pulls your panties back up and sends you out to continue your work day as before.

When lunch time comes around, you meet him in the building’s cafeteria and he drags you to the nearest supply closet to fuck your mouth and then your cunt, telling you what a good little slut you are and how well you always take him.

He sends you pictures of his hard cock after work, begging you to come to his place and bounce on him - but you never do. It’s a game for both of you. No fucking outside of work, no dates or anything like that. He gets to keep fucking you and you get to keep your job - easy as that.

Just that… you’re not really bad at your job. Seokmin is slow to figure that one out, you realize.

When your seventh month at the company begins, he is so focused on getting his cock inside of you, he doesn’t even notice you’ve stopped handing off your assignments to your colleagues. You’ve actually grown quite fond of this job and the team - and Seokmin for that matter. Not that you want to admit that to him, or confess that you’ve been playing this part of the dumb girl with the slutty outfits simply to get his attention.

“I love when you get to the office with no panties on, gods, you’re a dirty little whore.” Seokmin’s hands are on your ass while you bounce on his cock. He’s sitting on his desk chair, admiring the view of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock. His dirty words make your pussy flutter around him and you whimper, your hands braced on his shoulders.

“Mhmm, only a whore for you, Mr. Lee,” you moan, biting down on your lip. There is no chance you’ll ever grow tired of seeing the way he looks at you when you fuck. His hooded eyes, his red lips dropped open. His cheeks flushed and his hair a mess.

You enjoy being on top, enjoy watching him watch you, setting your own pace until he can’t hold back any longer and wraps his arm around your waist, pushing you down so he can fuck into you at his desired speed.

“That’s right, you’re my whore, your pussy belongs only to me.” He squeezes your ass cheeks and moans when you clench around him again, thrusting his hips up once. You can tell he’s about to lose control, about to hold you down and fuck you senseless. There is nothing quite as hot as Seokmin losing his composure.

Just two days ago, you teased him by being flirty with Soonyoung all day. Seokmin had not thought of himself as possessive, but somehow when it came to you…

Safe to say, he fucked you against his office door two minutes after your last encounter with Soonyoung, simply shoving up your skirt and ripping off your panties, his cock deeply buried inside of you the next second. He fucked you so hard you couldn’t properly walk even the day after.

“Yes, Mr. Lee, my pussy belongs to you, I am yours, Sir.”

You bounce on his cock quicker now, throwing your head back when his hands move to your breasts, taking them both into his hands and cradling them. His fingers press onto your nipples, squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and teasing you. With every touch of his, you feel yourself nearing your high.

“You’re so beautiful, always so good for me, isn’t that right?” He breathes out, licking his lips as his eyes are glued to the way your tits look between his hands.

He fucked them a few days ago, your tits. Had you kneeling between his legs, squeezing them together as he fucked his cock between them with the lube he now stored in his bottom drawer. They had felt amazing around him, but nothing compared to your cunt, to its warmth, to its tightness.

“Oh- oh! I’m- I’m gonna come, Mr. Lee! Please, can I come?!” Your orgasm is so close, is ready to crash down on you and when Seokmin moaned out a yes, you let it happen. Waves and waves of pleasure erupt in your body and make you fall forward against his chest, his hips now beginning to thrust up, his moans turning more and more desperate.

“Good girl, such a good girl, fuck- I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fill you up with my cum, breed you like my own personal whore, hm?”

Your nails dig into his skin desperately as he fucks you fast and hard, his right arm now around your waist, pressing you down while he uses you for his pleasure, crying out your name when he comes - white hot cum landing inside your spent pussy, painting it the colours of his affection for you.

Seokmin fucks both of you through your orgasms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your lips passionately when his hips still. You kiss him back, arms wrapping around his neck, your high still present in your bones.

“You’re perfect,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips and you smile, kissing him again, fingers brushing through his hair.

For a while, you make-out just like that, him still safely buried inside of you, some bits of your combined releases dripping down onto his chair.

Only when Seokmin’s phone rings do the two of you part. You give his cheek a small kiss before climbing off his lap and looking for your underwear, all while you put your dress back into its place. Your boss watches you, wishes he could just do this all over again instead of answering his phone. Reluctantly, he takes the call and watches how you wave at him, panties back on and clothes and shoes back where they belong. He waves back, greeting the business partner on the other line.

And when you leave his office and close the door behind you, when none of your co-workers even pay you any mind, you realize that maybe you like to keep it this way for just a little while longer.

[navstuffs]

Nude painting class

Pairing: RookieRE2!Leon x BustyF!Reader

Summary: You and Leon continue meeting in weird circumstances.

Warning tags: au, written with busty/curvy reader in mind, but anyone can read it, SMUT MINORS DNI, nudity, blowjob (m receiving), mask/hidden identity, cum, nudity, tiny cum play, deep-throat, switch!leon, leon loves your tits, ingrid is my oc

Author's Notes: hiiii! my husband gave the ideia (again) for the second part of traffic stop (spoiler alert: he gave the idea for the third/final part as well and it is THE BOMB!!). HABEMUS smuuuuuut! which i want to remind you all, i am no expert, and i hope to continue improving (since for the final part i will def need it)! hope you have fun reading it!

part 1 | my leon's masterlist

"Nude painting?"

Your friend Ingrid nods her head, excited. You look at yourself: short floral dress, make-up-ready. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when you came all the way from Raccoon City to celebrate Ingrid's birthday. You came to have fun, get wasted, and end up in some strange man's arms. Not to paint.

"What happened to the Ingrid that loved drinking and partying?" Ingrid simply shrugs, resting against the passenger seat from the rideshare app. Well, it is her birthday, not yours.

"What about you? When are you leaving Racoon City?"

It is your time to shrug now. You decided to stay when Ingrid and most of your friends moved at the end of high school. You never thought of moving away.

"I love you, but Racoon City has nothing in there. It is a small town everyone leaves as soon as they can. What possibly can keep you there?"

A sudden pair of blue eyes crosses your mind, and you feel your face heating up. Ingrid opens a smirk, holding you in the arm.

"Wait, wait, there is someone?" You bite your lips, shaking your head.

"No, there is no one!" Ingrid holds into your arm, pressing you to tell her.

No, there wasn't. You only met Officer Kennedy once and never saw him again. It is not like you were looking hopeful at every police car that passed. Which you weren't. Or wondering if Leon was thinking as much of you as you thought of him.

You try to take Officer Kennedy out of your head for tonight. He is probably five hours away, doing who-knows-what. You are there to have fun.

-x-

Chris crosses his arm, watching Leon walk back and forth, both already dressed in robes. Chris has a malicious smile on his face: he was the one who convinced Leon to do this. Leon needed the money to help pay for his college anyway.

"I swear, you are fine! We are like, what? Five hours away from Racoon City? Who the fuck would see you? And you are going to be wearing a mask anyway!"

Leon knows this. He knows he is very far away from his workplace, yes, he would be wearing a mask to hide his identity. All of that should serve to ease Leon, but it doesn't. He has this strange feeling inside of him, growing since he arrived. 

Before they leave their locker area, Leon is handed a black full-face Venetian mask. He has his hair back with gel, making it all spiky. They are taken to the paint room, Chris giving a thumbs up before they enter the main room.

Leon is trying hard not to place his hands in front of his dick when he gets to the room, although he is still technically covered. There are around twenty to thirty women in front of blank canvases, all eyeing them up and down. His job is to pose and maybe walk around. Easy peasy, Chris mentioned, and you don't even have to talk.

Leon lets his eyes glance around the room. Most women are excited, talking with each other. That's when Leon notices a woman he never thought he would see right here, his heart beating fast against his chest. One that has not left his mind since the traffic stop.

Leon could not believe his bad luck.

-x-

Ingrid is vibrating with excitement when the models start to come out. You warn her to ease on the wine, but Ingrid says it is her birthday, so she can do whatever she wants. Your eyes went from the stronger one with dark hair to the leaner blonde one, hair pulled back with gel. Why did you feel like you knew him?

"Can we touch them?" Ingrid interrupts your thoughts, excited.

"We can NOT touch them, Ingrid! Not if you want to get kicked out of here!"

You hear screams and claps around, and when you turn back, they take their underwear off. Well, great you lost the strip tease. Your eyes go from the brown-haired one to the blonde. Well, it seems he was hiding some muscles in there.

Your eyes go down to his abs, and it stops just above his pubic hair. Should you dare to look more? Oh, fuck it. It is Ingrid's party, you are there to have fun, you remind yourself. You look down at his cock, and you gulp, staring at it a little longer than you should.

"Okay, I get the brown-haired one, you get the blonde one," Ingrid whispers, startling you.

Your stare finally crosses with the model, and he is highly interested in you. You immediately look away, cheeks heating up, focusing on your canvas. You grab the first brush and paint you find and start painting.

The following two hours feel long for both you and Leon. You must look to draw your model, but if you had glanced three times during that time, it would have been too much. Ingrid, half drunk by now, kept her eyes focused on him every time he passed. You barely moved, his leg brushing lightly against your back.

"I think he likes you," Ingrid whispers, covering her mouth.

"Ingrid, he does not!"

"He keeps passing here, staring at your tits. I think he is getting hard as well."

"Ingrid, he isn't staring at my tits!" You say more loudly than you should. Ingrid slowly turns away, and when you go back to your side, Blonde's cock is literally inches away from your face. You don't move, paralyzed, analyzing from the corner of your eyes. He has some pubic hair in there, not entirely shaved (which gave him more charm). You watch as it suddenly twitches in your line of vision, making you lick your lips.

You hear a low clearing of the throat, and you look up, a very intense blue eyes staring at you right back. With your cheek heating up, you lock in his gaze, wondering what would happen if you shove his cock down your mouth.

"And class is up! Let's see what you did, people!" The teacher announces, waking you and the model for your trance.

He quickly moves away from you as you stare at your horrible paint, half of what was supposed to be a human body done in there. Ingrid's paint looks much better.

"Hey, yours look good!"

"You can focus more when you aren't flirting with your model!"

"I was NOT flirting!"

-x-

Leon slams the locker door open, frustrated. It is far away from Raccoon City, Chris said, you will be fine, he said. And yes, Leon would have been fine if he didn't find himself in front of the woman who had been pestering his mind for the last couple of months. Leon had lost count of how many times he fapped for you, your boobs on his mouth, your tits around his cock, as you took him in your mouth, your boobs bouncing as you rode him.

"...bathroom? Oh, shit, I am so sorry!"

Of course, it had to be you, lost on your way to the bathroom and entering the model's locker room instead. Blonde has his back turned against the door. You can't see his face, but you notice as he quickly grabs the mask before him in the locker. Your eyes start going down to his jeans pants and the line of his underwear. Neither you nor he move until you mutter, embarrassed.

"I am really, really sorry."

"I don't think it was an accident. You came here looking for something, didn't you?" Leon tries to mask his voice, going deeper. Inside, he is freaking out. What if you run away screaming, pervert? He is a cop, for Christ's sake! He has stopped you in traffic before, this would be so unethical in levels he didn't even know of.

You stay quiet until Leon hears the door closing and being locked. He turns around, and you look timid by the door, looking anywhere but him, rubbing the front of your dress with your hands.

"Come here. Sit." Leon says, pointing to the bench in front of him. Leon is thankful you don't look up as you sit. You would notice his nervousness, even through the mask, his hands shaking.

He first looks at your cleavage, a tiny part of your green bra poking. Leon wants to touch and grope them, feel them against his hands, but he holds himself back. Leon gently grabs your chin to look at him.

"I saw the way you looked at me in that class. I know you want me, don't you?" You nod, forgetting about Ingrid outside or that you could get in trouble for this. Leon opens a smile, but you can't see it. "Then come on. Open your mouth. "

Leon doesn't have to say twice. You open the button of his jeans, pulling down his underwear with your shaky hands, causing it to fall altogether. He is hard already, leaking. You waste no time shoving down your mouth.

"Shit. Fuck. Li-like that," Leon groans. Not even in his wildest dreams he thought he would have your pretty lips around his cock. And it feels much better than he imagined in any of his fantasies.

You start to move your head down Leon's length as you go deep into your throat, and Leon thinks he can't survive much of this. Leon looks down at you, pulling your dress down and your bra up much rougher than he intended to expose your boobs. Surprised, you moan as Leon places his hand on the top of your head, keeping you moving. 

Your boobs are finally in his view, and he can't believe it. They are exactly as he remembers. Leon watches you rub your legs against each other when he gropes one of them. He could cum like that.

Leon starts bobbing your head up and down, trying to keep his moan as low as possible. The small locker room is filled with his whimpers, and you know you will never forget about them. He is rough but gentle at the same time, making sure you are not gagging and leaving you space to breathe.

"I am clo-close. So close," Leon stutters, and you think you heard that voice somewhere before. "I want to cum all over your boobs."

You nod, your wetness asking for your attention, but focusing on Leon for now. When Leon thinks he is close, he pulls his dick out of his mouth with a plop, and Leon releases his cum all over your tits and bra. You watch, astonished, as the man in front of cums, moaning loud. The only thing you can properly see is his blue eyes rolling, making sure he covers your boobs with his cum.

When he is done, he looks down at you, his breath noisy against the mask. Leon's breath hitches when he sees your index finger pass on top of his cum and take it to your lips, licking it clean. 

Oh, you wanted to kill him.

With a sudden shot of lust into his blood veins, he lifts you up and makes you turn around. On all fours for him, legs spread apart, your hands support themselves in the walls before you. You are soaked, Leon notices, soaked because of him. When Leon places a warm hand against your ass, a sudden knock on the door makes you both jump.

"Hey? Is someone here still?" The voice of the manager of the place sounds curious by the door.

Silence.

You hear the insistent knock, looking at Leon over your shoulder. He lifts his hand up, motioning for you to stay silent.

"Still here," Leon answers.

"Going to lock the building in less than ten minutes, man! Hurry up!"

"I will be out soon!" Leon answers.

The steps start going away, and you suddenly remember Ingrid. Has she even left? With all strength in the world, you straighten up, your hands going to your bag. There were at least three missing calls from her and five text messages wondering where you are. Decided, you start organizing yourself, not even looking at the man before you. You look around for a towel or anything you can clean yourself, and Leon offers you one. 

"Thanks." You clean your boobs, deciding what to do about your bra. With a sudden decision, and to make you remind you of him, you take it off, placing it on his hand. You smirk as he stares at you. "So, you can remember tonight. Remember me."

You pull your dress up, and Leon watches as your nipples hard against the fabric. He doesn't want you to go, he wants to touch you more, but Leon occupies himself, pullings his underwear and jeans up. You two stare at each other for a moment before you nod.

"Well. It was nice, mhm fun."

Say something, Leon. Say anything. Don't let her go like that. Leon doesn't say anything, simply watching you leave, a little disappointed, the door closing behind you with a click.

Leon throws the mask away, finally giving a good breath. His forehead is sweaty, and he could barely breathe on that thing. The back against the cold locker calms him. Leon finishes organizing himself, feeling a little sad you didn't recognize him from before. How would he be if he was wearing a mask? Leon didn't want to be recognized. Leon shakes his head, ignoring the sad feelings on his chest. He let himself go too far.

It is time to forget you.

-x-

Ingrid is sitting down by the parking lot alone. You apologize a hundred times, and she is furious, thinking you got killed or kidnapped before she calls the rideshare app. You promise you will pay her back when you see a motorcycle coming out at the side of the building. 

The man wears a dark helmet, and you just know by the clothes that this is the model you gave a blowjob. He seems to stop, watching you two alone in the parking lot, his leg on the ground. Again, that familiar feeling is in your chest. He seems to be waiting on something, his stare focused on you and Ingrid. Like he is keeping an eye on you and Ingrid, all alone in that parking lot, late at night.

"Come on, it is here! No more letting you out of my sight tonight!" Ingrid grabs you by the arm. You shot one last look at him before getting into the car.

With a sudden realization and the motorcycle passing fast in the opposite direction, you remember why you felt so familiar: the model had the exact eyes of Officer Leon Kennedy.

[sim0nril3y]

Workplace Distractions

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon spends the night keeping you company at work. Note: Set in 2014 Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, tiny bit of angst, derogatory comments.

“Oh, that is sweet of you to ask, but I’m actually working tonight…” Well fuck, didn’t he feel like a plank for putting himself out there and asking you out for another drink. Simon kicked himself for not remembering you mentioning your work hours. It had certainly been something that you had mentioned to him. Bloody hell, there wasn’t much that you hadn’t mentioned to him now that he thought about it. With most things you were an open book and that was refreshing. “Maybe you could pop into the pub I work in…” You announced then breaking the silence. “If you keep me company for a little while I can promise you cheap drinks.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Simon’s throat. It wasn’t like he had anything planned for tonight anyway. “Where’d you work again?”  “The Golden Lion.” Oh, right. Yeah, he remembered that too. It was actually a place he used to visit often when he first moved down South. Back then the owner was a little more hands-on with working behind the bar, there certainly weren’t any pretty girls like you working there. “I’ll be there…” He agreed knowing that he could almost hear the smile that pulled across your face. “You better keep your word about those cheap drinks, love.”

The pub was just as rundown as Simon remembered, the carpeted floors were marked with deep stains of something Simon didn’t want to dwell on too much, the windows were frosted and filthy, all the drink bottles of the top shelves were caked in dust and the bar itself was chipped and broken in several different places. This place was just lacking a bit of TLC. Across the room there was a rowdy group of lads watching the live MMA fight on the TV, a couple regulars sat nearby quietly drinking, a few others were occupying the batter pool table.

It was nice to see you during your shift. The moment that you had seen him perched at the bar you face brightened and instantly you were by his side checking if he needed anything or wanted a refill. You were far more attentive to him than anyone else that approached the bar. God, that made him feel fucking fantastic. He really loved that you would get so engrossed telling him a story that people would have to ask twice to get your attention and each time your attention was drawn away from him you seemed frustrated.

A sharp set of fingers snapped rudely in their direction. “Honey, ‘nother drink…” The drunk rudely tapped his empty glass against the bar. Simon didn’t miss the way that you rolled those precious eyes before sweeping away to prepare his order. “S’bout fuckin’ time…” A dangerous set of eyes began to observe him from afar. A bit of respect wouldn’t go amiss. A little less attitude wouldn’t be too much to ask. Simon watched as the man swayed, stilling himself on the bar itself whilst those glazed eyed cast down your exciting frame. It made his blood boil. Fuck. It wasn’t like they were even a couple but Simon couldn’t stand another set of eyes drinking you in.

Once you had taken payment, stashing the money into the till and then wandered back to stand opposite Simon again. “Alright?” For a moment longer his eyes lingered on the retreating drunk, sliding into the background seamlessly. “Si?” His attention snapped back to you in a second. Nobody called him Si, or well at least not since his mum was alive. Fuck, his head was a mixture of emotions. Was it something he liked? Was it too personal? Was that nickname reserved for her? Could it be shared? “Try not to pay them any notice. They’re all just a bunch of larger louts.” Then shrugging your shoulders as if you dealt with this regularly – well, working in this place you probably did.

A few times that night Simon found himself outside for a smoke. Each time it gave him a moment to think with a clear mind. Could he really keep doing this? Was it really fair to you? Could he even give you what you wanted emotionally? Did you even want anything emotionally? It put his mind at ease to at least know that weren’t expecting anything physically from him you had made that very clear.

“Pwah, mate. I’d give it to her.” A rowdy voice snapped from behind him as a group of lads exited the pub, lighters and cigarettes in hand. “Which one?” “Which one do you think? The barmaid…” They were talking about you. Fuck, he could feel his temper rising at just the mention of your description on their tongues. “Mate, I just know that she’s gaggin’ for a bit of cock. Been givin’ me the eye all night.” They all laughed between them and Simon threw down his cigarette in the next second.

“Oi…” Christ, why was he even picking this fight? It wasn’t like you were even a couple… but fuck, hearing them talk about you like that was fucking soul destroying. It wasn’t going to happen. Not whilst he was around to solve the problem. “That’s enough now. You might wanna show a little respect.” It could have ended there. It really could have, but these lads seemed not to take Simon’s warning all that well. No, instead they picked a fight. 3 against 1. It really wasn’t fair… for them.

Last call came and went and in groups people seemed to leave. You wandered over to him as your colleague got to work cleaning tables and collecting errant glasses. “Thanks for coming tonight, Simon. You being here actually made work bearable.” Fuckin’ hell. He could see that look in your eye. It was dangerous, he knew that, but no part of him was able to walk away or explain to you that this was difficult for him. “I’m working again tomorrow, if you want to… pop by…” Then shrugging your shoulders.

“Wouldn’t miss it…” Fuck, eventually he was going to have to put an end to this. It was going to hurt, maybe it would actually hurt him more than it would hurt you, but… but he couldn’t be selfish about you. He couldn’t keep just stringing you along thinking that he might be able to give you a normal relationship or life. No, deep down Simon knew that the only right thing to do was end this, but… but that couldn’t happen tonight and… and you were counting on him being there tomorrow. No, he would find a good time to do it, but right now you needed him.

Masterlist | Ask | 01-09-2023

[quinacridonered]

ROP Recap - Season 2, Episode 5

Ring of Power: Wear meeeeeeee!

Entire World: Don’t wear it!

King Durin: *wears it*

Prince Durin: Dad? 

King Durin: SIRE! Dig over here.

Prince Durin: Sire! Who is also Dad! You’ll bury us!

King Durin: Get out of my way or I will bury *you* specifically.

Sun Shaft: *emerges*

King Durin: If you don’t do what I tell you, our previous falling out will be your best family memory.

Prince Durin: This seems like a lot even for you.

--

Celebrimbor: Work party! Dwarves and elves! Awkward standing around! Mediocre beverage!

Sauron: Too bad about that First Age wine.

Celebrimbor: ’Tis a loss for the world.

Sauron: You know what will fix it? Rings for Men.

Celebrimbor: Not this again.

Sauron: I already put on a Broadway-level production to convince you. Are we gonna have to upgrade to Vegas? 

Celebrimbor: If we give humans anything, it should be something like Xanax.

Sauron: Have to do everything myself around here.

Assistants: We'll help!

Celebrimbor: At what point did I completely lose control of my own ring factory?

Sauron: Probably back when I wandered in wearing Halbrand pyjamas.

--

Pharazon: If a mob made me king, does this constitute a democracy?

Miriel: We should ask the eagle.

Pharazon: The eagle has already spoken.

--

Eärien: Dad? You are demoted.

Elendil: This is the kid I’m stuck with.

Miriel: Wow.

Elendil: You should have seen her as a teen.

--

Dwarf Business Improvement Association: What news, King Durin?

King Durin: I give you magic rings. You give me half your money.

Dwarf Business Improvement Association: This seems like a lot even for you.

--

King Durin: Dig, motherfuckers! DIG!

Disa: We’re digging too much.

Prince Durin: I thought you wanted him to?

Disa: Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.

King Durin: I’m proud of you, my son!

Prince Durin: You’re right. He’s off his rocker.

--

Invisible Mirdania: AAAAAAAAH!

Celebrimbor: On the plus side, now we know how to make rings of invisibility.

Visible Mirdania: The unseen world sucks and I want to unsee it! What was that demon?

Sauron: Your boss.

Mirdania: You mean you?

Sauron: Your other boss.

Mirdania: Obviously.

--

Prince Durin: The ring you gave us is fucked up.

Celebrimbor: Did you fuck up the ring?

Sauron: Is it me who is a lying liar?

Celebrimbor: …No?

Sauron: Is it you perchance?

Celebrimbor: …Yes? Oh god, what do I do?

Sauron: Make more rings.

Celebrimbor: Obviously.

Sauron: Thank god, your prefrontal cortex is no longer working.

--

Kevin: Guards! Rough up the faithful!

Valandil: Or we could rough up Kevin.

Kevin: *kills Valandil*

Elendil: My son-in-law, everyone.

Kevin: To your chagrin and mine.

--

Sauron: Can I play with your hair and pretend you are my ex?

Mirdania: You are beautiful, good at smithing and 600 meters tall. You can do whatever you want.

Eregion Industries HR Department: Would you like to report workplace harassment, defined as vexatious conduct that is known or reasonably ought to be known to be unwelcome?

Mirdania: To be perfectly honest, he is welcome to vex me straight into next week. Or next fiscal year, for that matter.

Sauron: Noted.

HR Department: We tried.

--

Galadriel: A star shines upon me taking you hostage, asshole.

Orc Daddy: Ex-of-Sauron Support Group is now in session.

Galadriel: He’s not my ex!

Orc Daddy: Does the thought bring you relief and regret in vast and equal measure?

Galadriel: Crap. It does.

Orc Daddy: Welcome to the group, Galadriel.

---

More recaps:

Season 2, Episode 1

Season 2, Episode 2

Season 2, Episode 3

Season 2, Episode 4

[jackwhiteprophetic]

Okay so I don't usually go into asks, so l'm sorry if this isn't the correct etiquette (its not rlly an ask, more of a anti-bt rant), BUT the amount of bt truthers on my feed recently have been pissing me off, and then I saw this one post that said,

"honestly i love tommy not entertaining their shovel talk with any serious answers, he's like yeah this is my relationship with my adult bf who wants me so im gonna go eat my cake now (double entendre)"

Which??? I don't even know what to say.

honestly i love Tommy not entertaining their shovel talk with any serious answers

Shovel talk?? You mean them asking legitimate questions on his intentions with their friend, who they care about??? who they're protective over??? who's dating a guy that in the past was both racist and misogynistic??? Who treated hen terribly when she joined the 118???

Idk about some people but I'd def hold a grudge 💀??

And it's the way he's not even TRYING. Like they said, not entertaining their questions with any serious answers. he's just making poorly landing jokes (that apparently his cult following chalks up as sass????) and being so dismissive of everything they say.

"I'm wearing a medal" dear god I hated him before that clip but the way he was acting made me hate him even more and gave me SO MUCH of an ick.

It's the way his following are following him so blindly? That they can't see that he wasn't being sassy he was being a sarcastic little shit who doesn't know how to read the room. Henren are trying to look out for their friend who this asshat is dating and he can't even bring himself to try to assure them that he's good for buck.

Idk I think I might've gotten a bit off topic but bt stans are so aggravating???? I've been called 'delusional' by so many people in this fandom who used to be buddie shippers but converted as soon as Buck was kissed by another guy.... And I've seen so many bt shippers be like 'Oh, yeah, I used to be in that sub fandom, I know how annoying and pushy they are'. I'm SO tired of the infighting, and the sudden shitting on Eddie that's going on ever since Tommy reentered the picture. And I'm so tired of THEM thinking that bt will be endgame because it's Buck's first relationship with a man and Bobby gave his approval. They don't care about Buck. I saw another post the other day talking about how 'Evan Buckley better not break Tommy Kinard's soft gentle heart or they're gonna have words'. Atp all they care about is Lou/Tommy. 

Hello!!! Anyone is always welcome to send me asks especially just to rant, I don't end up responding to all of them because I don't want to only focus on Tommy or BT shippers because there are lots of other less aggravating things to talk about, but I saw the same post and I had the same thoughts and I will say I find it incredibly frustrating how some people have praised Tommy for that scene.

Because I think he should be a lot more ashamed of how he treated Hen, and I think if he understood the weight of his ignorance/outright bigotry on her in the past, he would be a lot more receptive of the fact that obviously she feels protective over her friend in this situation. The fact is, the characters of Gerrard and Tommy were written in S2 to show how fucking dangerous workplace bigotry is. They're firefighters. Try telling me that Tommy would have fought as hard to get Hen from a burning building than a white male teammate. Do we think that this extended to the public? When Gerrard was probably evacuating crew members from burning houses earlier than he would for white neighbourhoods, do we think Tommy stood up and said "no, I'm an ally and I say this is wrong, we should fight just as hard for every life". Or did he sit there like a fucking coward and think about cars or boxing or something? I don't have much more to add because I fucking hate the character so much and I am quite disgusted by the white people who excuse this or look past it. You should feel more shame and Tommy should show he is fucking ashamed of his actions and at least show Hen some fucking respect. Tommy should take Hen seriously because his actions had fucking serious real life consequences.

Anyway thank you for the ask!!! My ask box is always open for people to rant and I will always read them!! I'm very much limiting how much I talk about that character BC I am trying to focus more on positive stuff, but if anyone would like to message me ranting about him or any 911 thing I am always available!!!

[iznaekkoya]

secrets ~ bang jeemin

1111 words, rated G

tags: friends to lovers, secret pining, happy ending

You and Jeemin, for all the many years you’ve been friends, are still allowed your personal secrets. This isn’t the movies––you don’t have to tell each other absolutely everything, and having secrets isn’t inherently harmful.

Like when you had that hipster blog in middle school where you painstakingly curated a feed of girls in cozy flannels or denim, pictures of beautifully arranged cups of coffee and tea, of tastefully blurry sunflowers with four or five different filters layered on top of each other. Jeemin could never––can never––know about it, because you’d never hear the end of it. She would probably think it’s a cute relic of the past, but then every artisanal coffee shop and infinity scarf you see will come with a pinch on the cheek and a reminder of something you’d like to stay dead and buried, thank you. Fall time would be miserable.

Or that time that you almost crashed your mom’s car trying to drive to the store in the middle of the night before you got a license. Jeemin didn’t need to know where that ice cream came from, not when she looked so excited to suddenly have a pint of cookie dough.

All of this to say, secrets are normal. Healthy, even.

That’s what you’re telling yourself, anyway, since the thought of her figuring out your massive crush on her is life-shatteringly embarrassing.

“Y/N,” She hums, holding up two different blazers in the mirror. “Which of these two would you say is more business formal?”

Heat rushes to your face. “I don’t even know what that means. How is that different from regular business wear?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you might have a clue, because I was prepared to show up to the interview in that red dress with some kind of cardigan. I mean, I’m glad I saw their message about attire being business formal before I left, but now I feel like I’m overthinking it,” she huffs, dropping down into the desk chair behind her and rolling closer to where you sit on her bed.

The red dress looks amazing on her. You’d hate for a bunch of stuffy office workers to get to see it and not fully appreciate how radiant she looks in it, how that shade of red isn’t too orange or too blue, and how it brings out the warmth in her eyes. Not that you can say any of that.

Instead, you say, “Definitely not the red. Maybe just a blazer over some kind of collared shirt, and a pencil skirt? That’s how all the girls on Suits dress.”

Jeemin giggles into her hand. “Not sure if I should be taking fashion advice from the legal malpractice show.”

“Megan Markle looks so good in it, though.”

“Yeah, but I’m not trying to appeal to any workplace romance fantasies. Just want to do my job, get paid and leave.”

Thank God, you think, stewing with jealousy over just the thought of some random coworker making moves on her. You’re no stranger to watching people flirt with and date Jeemin over the years, and it’s never gotten any easier. Not when so many of them just liked her because she’s pretty, and didn’t take the time to get to know her as a person. Jeemin is so much more than just pretty, and you’re sick of people tossing her to the side once they realize the fantasy of her wasn’t enough to keep them interested. It drives you crazy.

“Y/N?” Jeemin asks, wheeling over and poking you in the thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” You can feel your cheeks reddening. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about you having workplace romance. I don’t think you’re the type, honestly.”

“You’re right. I’ve always preferred having a preexisting bond with my partners. Plus, it would be too much, having to see my girlfriend at work and at home. We’d never get a break from each other, it’d be exhausting.”

Are you hearing that right? Since when? Jeemin went on so many blind dates, used the dating apps more than any person you know for years––she only deleted them a few months ago, and that was just because of one too many bad dates. Where is this coming from?

“I didn’t know that,” is what you choose to say, after much deliberation. “I always thought you preferred to keep them separate.”

“Nah,” she says, desk chair spun so she can rest her elbows on the foot on the bed. Her forearm knocks into your thigh. “I’m over that. It took a while, but I realized I would only consider dating someone if they were a friend first.”

You chose a little bit at that. Through what you’re hoped are well-masked coughs, you fight to keep this little nugget of conversation going, hoping to prod further.

“Did something change your mind?”

Her gaze rakes down your body, sending chills up your spine. “Someone, yeah.”

Another cough wracks through you, this one unable to be concealed. You can only hope now that your face isn’t embarrassingly red. “Oh,” you say, through coughs. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she says, using your knees as an anchor as she slides the chair to be directly in front of you, leaning forward. Being on the bed, you have a lot of height on her, but it doesn’t matter. This is Bang Jeemin, her very existence can send you into a panic under the right circumstances. “Do you want to ask me who?”

“Do I?” you manage to spit out. You don’t know what to do with your hands.

“Don’t play dumb,” she says. Now she’s getting out of the chair to loom over you, which makes you infinitely more nervous. “Ask me who.”

“Uhh…” you say, dumbstruck. “Who?”

You know the answer. It feels like some kind of fever dream, but you’re not that obtuse.

Instead of an answer, you get a kiss. You’ve spent enough nights dreaming about it to know that her mouth would feel incredibly warm on yours, but her slightly chapped lips take you at first by surprise, but becomes what pulls you in more. The reality of it: the imperfection as you two find your rhythm, mouth gently gliding together like two slightly worn but connected puzzle pieces. It’s amazing, and it’s over too soon.

“You’re terrible at keeping a secret, y/n.” She cups a hand against your warm cheek, noticeably cool. “You always get so red.”

You just laugh, and bury your face in her tank top. “Shut up,” you say, not meaning it.

She hums for a moment, pretending to consider it.

“Make me.”

[fungusqueen]

so yesterday at work, I saw cop cars outside and my manager and the cops were speaking to a woman in her car in the parking lot. I had just been walking by but I told my coworkers to tell me what happened whenever they find out. weird shit is always going down at work. so today I found out what happened. I guess this woman had been sitting in her car, wearing jewelry, and a group of scammers approached her and told her she looked just like their mother who recently passed away. they had a bunch of jewelry with them (cheap costume jewelry) and they told her that their mother would have wanted her to have it. so they start putting jewelry on her, but meanwhile they were unclasping her real authentic jewelry and taking it!! (idk if it had mere sentimental value or if it was real gold/silver/high quality, or how they were even able to identify her jewelry pieces while she sat in her car) then they start praying with her for about 2 minutes (which feels really cruel to me but they probably wanted her eyes closed for nefarious purposes) and then they left! and she sat in her car for another 10 minutes before she realized what happened and then called the cops. so, our workplace really has nothing to do with it but I guess she wanted camera footage from our cameras (that's how we were able to determine how long she was sitting in her car). but of course, there is no legal recourse because: 1) she waited too long and they're gone and 2) because it's kind of a sophisticated scam and this woman shouldn't have let strangers touch her in the first place. it is also sad and strange that she probably thought she was receiving loads of free high-value jewelry from strangers....kind of another reminder that sometimes free shit really isn't free. just sharing this story because it's highly unusual and not at all what I expected to hear; but maybe this is a general PSA to just be aware that things like this happen

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

The art model

Nude model!reader x art student!Zoro.

Modern AU. My very first Zoro fic! This fic is dedicated to @star-yawnznn!

There is probably going to be a part two (and maybe even a part three!) to this...

*****

You had started having second thoughts on the very day you had asked Luffy to tell his teacher, Shanks, about you (or rather, you had allowed him to do so, after your friend had begged you for weeks), the anxiety mounting inside you progressively as the day of the first class drew near, and this morning, when a moment after waking up you looked at the calendar hanging from the wall and realized you were expected at the art school in just twelve hours, you felt the urge to scream loud enough for the whole building to hear.

How could you be so stupid to accept your friend's proposal? Yes, you were (and still are, barely two weeks later) in dire need of money, since you haven't been able to secure a scholarship or a loan to fund your education and your job at the bar doesn't pay enough. Yes, the classes are in the evenings and on Saturday morning, which is perfect because it allows you to attend your own lessons in the morning, spend your afternoons at the Partys', waiting tables and preparing drinks with your aunt Makino, and spend your Sundays in a coma, sleeping as much as you can to recuperate at the end of yet another hectic week. What's more, from what Luffy had told you the job is relatively easy, which certainly beat spending hours restocking shelves in a supermarket or cycling around to make deliveries for a restaurant.

Still... it is embarrassing. Absurd. A little ambiguous, also, even though you are confident Luffy would not drag you in something shady or of dubious morality; he has assured you the job is perfectly safe and even fun, but on the other had your friend's idea of amusement or security is different from that of most other people...

Even though you do need a job, part of you hoped Shanks would decide to hire someone else, given your complete lack of experience in the field, or that in the following weeks some problem would arose that forced him to look for another employee. He didn't, and (and for this you have to blame no one but yourself) since you didn't have the courage to disappoint both your friend and his teacher, you never called Shanks to tell him you had changed your mind.

Today is your first day of work as a nude model for the East Blue Art School, and you have no idea whatsoever what awaits you.

Luffy assured you that you didn't need to smarten yourself (you would be tempted to say to undress up) since what is required of a nude model is a natural look, but today, after returning home from your shift at the bar, you make sure to shave and wash your hair, and pay special attention to your make-up; the people you will pose for are students, not famous fashion photographer, but you want to look your best. You also spend a few minutes in front of your wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear, before realizing how utterly pointless the whole matter is, since you are going to pose in your birthday suit.

In the end, you decide you might as well choose something which you feel comfortable in; you have just put on your favourite shirt and a pair of new jeans when an energic, like everything he does and is, ringing of the door-bell heralds Luffy's arrival.

"(name)! Are you ready?" he asks, as enthusiastic as if he were going to escort you to the altar on your wedding day, rather than to a new workplace; as usual, he's wearing his beloved straw hat, a gift from Shanks himself on the first day of art school when he was seven, a bag with his drawing supplies hanging from his shoulder "I'm so happy you're going to pose for us! I can't wait to introduce you to the others!"

He doesn't seem the slightest bit embarrassed at the prospect of an old and dear friend, with whom he has always had a purely platonic relationship, getting naked in front of him, and having to carefully observe her body to reproduce it on paper. Well, all the better for you, you think as you invite him to come in while you finish getting ready; Luffy is one of your dearest friends and you'd hate for shame or embarrassment to cause a rift between you.

"Just a minute, I need to put my shoes on."

"Take your time, we still have half an hour before class starts. You have anything good from your mom?"

You have no talent whatsoever in the kitchen, let alone the time and energy required to prepare something good to share with your friends or to reward yourself at the end of a long day of study and work, but you have the fortune to be the daughter of a capable baker, and your mother often gifts you the fruit of her labour - what is left of it when the bakery closes, that is: brownies, cookies, bread rolls and other delicacies, that Luffy appreciates as much as you do.

You tell him your mom brought you some gingerbread last night, when she stopped by to wish you good luck for your new job, and Luffy quickly finds it in the pantry. "I'm sure you'll do great today." he says as he happily munches gingerbread as if it were the last day of his life. He once asked you if your mother could hire him part time at the bakery, but you gently pointed out that in that case the shop would have nothing left to sell, since he would have eaten everything.

"I hope so!" you comment as you join him in the kitchen, shoes donned and bag under your elbow "I don't want to disappoint you, or your teacher. I mean, everything I have to do is simply sit there, right?"

"I guess so. Just make sure not to fall asleep. Our previous model, Buggy, did it, one day he had to stay a bit longer than usual. He fell off a stool and broke his nose."

"Oh, poor guy..." you comment, snickering despite yourself "Anyway, I drank a double espresso ten minutes ago, so I should be fine."

You leave the apartment together, walking unhurriedly towards the art school, which is only ten minutes away, in a quiet neighbourhood. "I can't wait for you to meet the others!" Luffy exclaims, almost skipping along the sidewalk; besides you, your friend is particularly close to a small group of classmates, who together with him have studied at the East Blue since they were children "I'm sure you'll love them, and they you."

"I hope so." you murmur, suddenly tense once more; Luffy's company and natural cheerfulness have momentarily distracted you from the anxiety filling your body at the prospect of having to take your clothes off in front of a group of strangers, but now that very uneasiness has returned, in addition to the worry of not making a good impression on Luffy's dearest friends. Why didn't I accept that job with the cleaning agency? I'm allergic to dust, but apart from that, it would have been perfect....

Unfortunately it is too late to change your mind, and even to turn on your heels and return home, leaving Luffy and his class in trouble, because your destination is just a minute away: a spacious, well-kept building, in which students of all ages take courses in drawing, painting, sculpture and photography. Despite the hour there are many people about, pupils, including many old enough to be your parents, walking to their classes, discussing their projects, and carrying art supplies of all types; a joyous, exciting chatter fills the air, the sounds of a place full of energy, of teaching and learning, where knowledge is cultivated and freely shared. The East Blue Art Academy is a well-reputed institute, and any candidate has to pass a rigorous exam in order to be accepted to the courses; you have no idea why Luffy's teacher has decided to hire a first-time model, but your friend has assured you Shanks can't wait to meet you.

Crossing the large double door, you find yourself in a large hall with floor-to-ceiling windows from which, Luffy tells you, it is possible to reach all the four main departments, where classes take place from early morning to late evening; a separate wing is being built to host a music school, and in the back there is also a small botanical garden, where some classes also take place, since any artist worthy of the name must learn to observe and reproduce nature.

It wouldn't be polite to keep Shanks waiting, especially not on your first day, but you linger for a minute, contemplating the decorated ceiling of the hall, the fresco representing a white-sailed ship with a figurehead carved in the shape of a sheep, sailing through the waves.

"We made this, you know." your friend proudly announces "My friends and I."

"You are kidding!"

"I'm not. The hall was renovated two years ago, and students were invited to submit their projects, individually or in group. Me and four other from my class, you'll meet them soon, won, and the rest is history; the guys from the painting department helped, but the idea is ours."

"I can't believe it, it's lovely..."

The ship sailing under the clear blue sky is a really beautiful scene, it evokes a sensation of freedom and joy that even you, who can't draw or paint to save your life and has no interest whatsoever in the field, can't help appreciating. Who knows where the small but sturdy vessel is going, and what adventures it is carrying its crew towards...

You are so focused on admiring the fresco, full of admiration for the talent of Luffy and his friends, you don't notice a young man literally burst in the room from another corridor and then, as if his life depended on it, run in the same direction you and your friend had started towards. He crosses the room at full speed, unaware of Luffy who waves at him, but he notices you, as you take a step back to admire the frescoed ceiling from a better perspective... and find yourself on the man's trajectory, who doesn't have the time to stop or dodge you.

"Aaaaahhhh...!!!"

Fortunately you don't hit your head, but the man falls right on you, his knee pressing on your stomach, making it impossible for you to breath for a minute. You hear Luffy emit a cry of surprise, and then he hurries to help the man to his feet, lifting him off you. "(name), are you all right? Zoro?"

"I'm fine." you both answer at the same time; the man bends to pick up the sketchbook and pencils that fell from his bag, checking they haven't been damaged, while you cautiously massage the area above your belly-button, already sure than Luffy and his classmates will have to draw a large bruise.

"You haven't been taught not to run inside, especially if there are so many people around?" you asks, as soon as you catch your breath; normally you would simply forget it, annoyed but still willing to let the incident slide to avoid an argument, but that guy could have seriously hurt you, on the first day of your new job!, not to mention how stressed you have felt all day "This is a school, not a running track!"

He looks at you, as clearly annoyed as you feel. "Nothing would have happened if you hadn't gotten in the way." he argues; he is tall, attractive, with bright green hair, a bandana tied around his arm and not one, but three scabbards, clearly not empty, hanging from a sash at his waist, an unexpected sight that makes you momentarily forget your argument "I know that ceiling looks nice, but why don't you look where you're going?"

"I wasn't going anywhere, I was practically standing still...!"

"Guys... guys, come on! There's no need to fight." Luffy intervenes, stepping between you and the green-haired man as if fearing you would soon come to blows "You're both all right. (name), this is Zoro, he's in the same class as me; Zoro, (name) is a good friend of mine, she's our new model."

You sigh, recognizing Zoro's name as one of those Luffy has mentioned most frequently when telling you about his classmates; from what you have heard, they are very good friends. Also, since this guy is apparently a student in the class you are going to pose for, you don't want him to complain about you with Shanks. Consequently...

"I see. Well, sorry if I made you stumble; I didn't mean to." you apologize, making an affort to sound more remorseful than you actually are; you slowly offer an hand, ready to pull it back the moment you perceive your peace offer is going to be refused, but Zoro must have reached the same decision as you, because he takes your hand and shakes it firmly.

"It's no problem; I'm sorry if I hurt you. So, uhm, you've already posed before?"

"No, it's my first time." you admit "I hope I won't be a disappointment for you guys and for Shanks."

Zoro shrugs, as if minimizing your fears - not with the intent to insult you, though. "Ah, don't worry; if you can stay still for a while you'll be ok. If that idiot Buggy could do it, anyone can."

You find yourself smiling, your resentment towards your friend's friend already forgotten; after all, you don't need any more negativity in your life. "I hope you're right."

"Well!" Luffy intervenes, happy to see peace return between the two of you, as he rests one hand on your shoulder and the other on Zoro's "Why don't we go to class? (name) has to meet Shanks before we begin."

You and Zoro follow him along a corridor, as Luffy, who has an almost preternatural ability to make friends wherever he goes, exchange greetings and smiles with most of the people whose path he crosses. According to your watch, your first day as a model will begin in less than fifteen minutes; you are still nervous, but you find yourself glancing at Zoro, still beside you. Why on earth has he carried three swords to a drawing class? Since nor Luffy nor the other students seem alarmed by it, it must be an habit of his; perhaps they are to be the subject of a drawing? Are they props? Will Shanks ask you to hold them as you pose for Luffy and the others?

You could ask him; still, there is something you are even more curious about. "Where were you going in such a hurry?" you inquire "It is still early for your class."

"Well..." Zoro rubs the back of his head, as if embarrassed by what he is going to reveal "I was afraid I would be late to class. Again."

"Oh. You got struck in traffic? Or were late after work?"

"No, I... couldn't find my way to class."

"... you moved to the school recently?"

"... no. I've been studying here since I was eight."

You are left reflecting on those words (he had lost his way to the classroom? Inside the school? After maybe ten years?!) as you glance inside some of the rooms, their doors left ajar, in which other classes are taking place; in one, a group of children are painting a vase of flowers the teacher has placed on a stool (even though most of the paint seems to have ended up on their faces!) while in another two older men are arranging what looks like a set for a photo shooting, with a large camera sitting on a tripod, umbrellas for controlling and diffusing the light, and a red collapsible backdrop. Posing for pictures, this is something you have already done, you reflect, even though in less formal contexts, during a birthday party or on holiday; of course, during those moments you always wore clothes...

"Here we are!" Luffy announces in the end; he bows at the waist next to the door of the classroom, jokingly inviting you to go in first "Shanks, this is (name)!"

The only man present in the room, busy organizing a large quantity of pencils and other drawing tools on a desk, turns to greet you all with a smile. Shanks is a tall man in his late thirties, with bright red hair. He offers you his right hand to shake; he has no choice, since his left arm is missing.

"It is very nice to meet you, sir." you politely greet him; Luffy had never mentioned his beloved teacher was an amputee, but after all, one does not need two hands to draw, does he? "Thank you for this opportunity, I hope you'll be satisfied."

Shanks invites you to call him by his name, like his students do. "I should be the one thanking you; you have no idea how hard it is to find a model."

"(name) is a bit embarrassed she has to pose naked." Luffy interjects while he and Zoro place their bags next to two of the stools.

"That's not true!" you protest, not wanting Shanks to doubt your motivation, or willingness to do what you are asked "I mean, it is just... the first time I take my clothes off... for a situation like this, I mean..."

Zoro, busy retrieving a large sketchbook from his bag five steps from you, grunts. "You know, we're not going to jump your bones as soon as you take your panties off." he points out. His tone, more brusque than what you would have expected from a person who has known you for ten minutes, doesn't give the impression he wants to insult or ridicule you, but you resent it all the same; wouldn't he be embarrassed to present himself to a group of strangers completely naked?

Maybe not; after all he is very fit, strong arms and (Zoro is now bending to retrieve a pencil from his bag) a firm backside. Who knows, you reflect as you quickly avert your gaze, perhaps for some people showing off their body is actually pleasant...

"It is perfectly normal to feel a bit of awkwardness in taking off your clothes." Shanks assures you kindly "What you have to remember, though, is that there is nothing immoral, or inappropriate, in posing. This is a perfectly respectable occupation, and as long as you are here, you'll be perfectly safe, and believe me, these students are all old and experienced enough to see you like any other subject; in the end, there is not much difference between a nude model and a bowl of fruit, they are simply something to reproduce on paper. No one will focus on your weight or your... intimate parts, if this is what you are worried about."

It is indeed, and Shanks' words do reassure you. Luffy, already perched on his stool, winks at you.

The classroom is sparsely furnished, with a desk covered with paper and drawing utensils, a few painting easels in a corner and twelve stools placed in a semi-circle all around an higher one, that you guess will be your work station; many books of all sizes are lined up on the shelves on the wall facing the door. A folding screen creates a corner with a chair and a small wall-mounted sink in which you can leave your things, undress in complete privacy... and wash away your make-up, like Shanks has asked you to do.

The students arrive while you prepare behind the screen, their chatting filling the room as they find their places; in the end you come out the screen, barefoot and wearing the dressing-gown you have brought with you.

"Guys and girls, this is (name); she'll be our model from now on." Shanks introduces you, and all the students smile and wave while you reach your stool, look at your feet as you disrobe, and sit. Shanks helps you strike a pose, with your knees apart, an hand resting on your lap and the other raised, and your face in profile; and after that, all you have to do is to remain still, which is at the same time the easiest thing ever and more than a little uncomfortable, especially considering the class is supposed to last for a whole hour.

Fortunately, Shanks was right in saying you had no reason to feel ill at ease. The students are clearly used to a naked model, since you perceive no embarrassment nor, even worse, any special interest in your body, and they are simply focused on faithfully reproducing your form on their sketchbooks; a pink-haired student whose name you don't catch mentions you have remarkably symmetrical thighs, while his friend, with long blonde hair, asks Shanks' help in deciding whether he drew your breast smaller than he should have.

None of the students moves for the first thirty minutes, the silence in the room only broken by the soft noise of the pencils rushing on the paper; even the sounds of the city outside, traffic and people arguing and the barking of a dog, sound muffled to your ears. Shanks walks among them, offering praises and gentle corrections, and inviting them to pay attention to the shape of (name)'s calf, look at the curve of it...

Luffy sits surrounded by his dearest friends, like a captain with his crew: you've heard him talk about them so many times it is as if you had already met them. There are Sanji, Usopp and Nami, and Zoro, who given the direction Shanks has asked you to look towards is right in front of you, so that you find yourself looking directly at him - for a whole hour. He is really attractive, you decide, perhaps more than most other men you know; with his athletic physique, and the elegant features of his face, he could be an excellent model, not necessarily an art one...

It is right then, while you are busy idly observing the little you can see from his body and decide that yes, he must be either an athlete or a gym fanatic, because no one who sits on his ass all day can have shoulders like those, let alone such well-defined biceps, that suddenly Zoro, who has been so focused on his drawing he seems to have forgotten the rest of the world, suddenly and quickly lifts his gaze, his dark eyes boring into you. You start, for a moment sure he has perceived your vaguely inappropriate thoughts, and with a mounting sense of panic you feel yourself going red in the face, as it often happens when you are embarrassed. What has gotten into you?, you chide yourself; and you were embarrassed the others would look at you?!

"Is everything all right, (name)?" Shanks asks, making you jump again.

"Yes! I mean... I'm fine." you stutter; a few of the students glance at you from above their sketchbooks.

"Good. Can you please left your hand a little more?"

You comply, making an effort not to look directly at Zoro even though your face is turned exactly in his direction, silently apologizing to him.

After a while, Luffy lifts his hand. "Shanks, can I approach her?"

"All right; as usual, you have ten minutes. (name), Luffy will now approach you."

"'k." you answer, making an effort to speak without moving your lips, and to remain as still as a statue, even though your left arm has started hurting.

Your friend stands from his stool and comes to kneel in front of you, his sketchbook balanced on his thigh; the pretext is to observe your face up close, but Luffy takes the opportunity to meet your eyes and smile at you, before raising an eyebrow questioningly; all good?, he's silently asking you, perhaps feeling secretly responsible since he was the one who begged you to come pose for them. You make sure Shanks is busy helping another student, and wink at him. All good, don't worry.

Luffy, who knows you well enough he could easily draw your face from memory, remains at your feet for a few minutes, after which a few of the other students also ask Shanks permission to approach one by one. Zoro is the last, and he looks... disgruntled, brows furrowed as he observes you, intent as if he had to solve a complex mathematical equation; he looks down at his drawing, that you can't see, then back at you, and he grimaces, clearly unsatisfied. You force yourself not to squirm, unsure of the reason for his discontent but sure it is somehow your fault.

In the end, you are almost caught off-guard when Shanks announces only five minutes are left before the end of the class; you had completely lost track of time. The students hurry to polish their drawings while they have you there in front of them, even though they will have another hour to work on them, and after that you'll have to assume another pose for the next two classes.

"You were great!" Luffy exclaims in the end as he helps you stand from the stool, your legs stiff after the innatural position you kept them in for an hour; you smile, as usually amused and touched at the same time by your friend's enthusiasm, while the other students start gathering their things.

"Thank you, but after all it was you guys who did all the work; I just had to sit there and look... still." you point out as you retrieve your night gown and put it back on.

"Well, you did it very well. You want to see my drawing?"

You actually couldn't wait to, and most of the other students gladly let you see theirs as well. They are all very good, you decide as you examine the sketchbooks one by one, obviously different in style but all quite life-like; Nami's is probably the best, even though Luffy's is the one you like the most. You look at them, those portrait the young artists have drawn without masking the imperfections and the parts of your body you are embarrassed of, but striving to do justice to it all the same. You don't consider yourself a vain person, a self-centered one even less, but you wish you could hang all of them in your apartment and keep them close forever, because for some reason you feel as if each of those young men and women, most of which you don't even know, now are in possession of a small part of you...

Zoro is the sole who, seeing his classmates offer you their sketchbooks and ask for your opinion, is quick to shove his in his bag; your eyes meet, and he quickly looks away, as if he had something to hide. What a weird guy! Handsome... but weird.

"So, how did it go?" Shanks asks as the students say goodbye and unhurriedly line to leave; you smile at him, much more enthusiastic than an hour before.

"I must admit, I had fun; I'm sorry if you had to correct my position."

"That's all right, you are not a statue after all, and you did very well. So..." the teacher smiles, as if already knowing what you are going to answer "You want to do it again?"

You absolutely do, and Shanks shows you the schedule for his classes, both group ones and private; you'll be busy five evenings a week, for one or two hours at a time, which works just fine for you.

"Me and the guys are going to grab a drink in a place down the road." Luffy tells you "Wanna come?"

"Are you sure? I mean, if you'd rather be among you..."

Luffy looks at you strangely, as if he didn't understand the reasoning behind your indecision. "You are my friend, and now theirs as well." he points out "Why wouldn't we want you there?"

Reassured, you tell him that you'll be happy to come; the truth is you had a long day (your own classes in the morning, a long shift at the Party's in the afternoon, and now an hour of posing after which you feel more than a little sore) and are consequently pretty tired, but you feel well and want to know Luffy's school friends better. He tells you they'll wait for you outside, since Sanji needs a smoke, and you promise you'll make it quick.

Shanks leaves as well, needing to talk to another teacher, so that you are soon alone in the classroom, getting dressed and then retrieving your bag and nightgown. You are really in a good mood: your new job promises to be interesting and even fun, and who knows, perhaps you will even meet some new friends...

At least you think you are alone, but you stand corrected when, coming out from behind the screen, you find yourself face to face with a person, leaning against the wall close to the classroom's door, arms folded, clearly waiting... for you.

Zoro.

"Hi again." you say, a little uncertain; you doubt he waited to accompany you out... unless he is the one who needs to be guided, since apparently he gets lost easily "I'm sorry if I kept you guys waiting..."

Zoro shakes his head; his hand is now resting on the handle of one of his words, a casual gesture clearly dictated by habit. "I'm not coming tonight. I wish I could, but my... father is waiting for me."

"I see. So, uhm, you wanted to tell me something...?"

"Actually... I know we just met, but I have a favour to ask you."

Zoro bites his lip (something you have always found attractive in a man, which makes you smile for a moment), as if embarrassed of having to bother a person he barely knows... or perhaps of the favour itself.

"Go ahead."

"Well... I need you to pose for me."

Zoro tells you that figure drawing (that is, drawing the human form, either by observation of a live model or otherwise) has always been hard for him, much more than drawing a still life, buildings or any sort of scenes; he is usually at the same level of, or even better than, his classmates, but when he has to draw an human body, either that of a model or copying from a book or even simply relying on his imagination, he somehow suddenly forgets how to hold a pencil, not to mention everything he knows about proportions and perspective. He does his best, really, he practices and practices, he has a whole stack of sketchbooks filled from cover to cover with drawings, studies and portraits, but he is still unsatisfied - and behind what is expected from a person who has been an art student since he was six. Even kind, encouraging and less-strict-than-most-teachers Shanks had to admit his life drawings are of a much lower quality than the rest of his works.

What do you draw exactly, stick figures?, you are about to ask, and maybe you would if you were talking to Luffy or someone you know well. "I'm sorry to hear that; it must be very frustrating."

"It is; so I was wondering... well, if you'd be ok with posing for me, to practice." he goes on, shifting his weight from one leg to the other; asking another person for help, and consequently having to admit his shortcomings, seems almost physically painful for him "I do marginally better with a model, but two classes a week are not enough."

"Haven't you asked Luffy or one of the others?" you wonder, imagining that his friends would be happy to help, especially being artists themselves "Well, maybe not Luffy, he'd never be able to stay still for ten minutes, let alone a whole hour..."

"He really couldn't. And I tried, but I get distracted if I know the other person. I know you are busy with school and your other job, but would you be available? I would pay you, of course."

You tell him you could never accept money from one of Luffy's friends, especially not from a student like you. "I have yet to learn how to teleport or how to be in two places at the same time, but if we can find a moment we are both free, I'll be happy to help you."

"Are you sure?" Zoro asks; he seems taken aback, as if he expected you to refuse, or to have to beg you "You don't mind...?"

"I just discovered I actually like posing, and Luffy's friends are mine." you easily answer "Shall I come to your place? Do you live nearby?"

You quickly discover you live a couple of blocks away from each other, close enough you can easily walk from home, or from the Partys', to the house Zoro lives in with his adoptive father. You decide to meet on Sunday afternoon, which will allow you to sleep very late and still do something constructive during the day, especially if you bring a book or your notes with you to review as you pose.

Finally, Zoro smiles, relieved and happy; he has a lovely smile, you notice, as well as a lovely face, which makes you wonder if he ever tried drawing himself... "Thank you. (name), really... I owe you big time."

"One day maybe you can buy me a pizza or something." you easily answer, not meaning anything specific by it (namely, not a date) but simply thinking back at that time Luffy helped you move to your new flat and you bought him dinner to thank him (and almost went bankrupt) "Do you mind if we walk as we talk? I think Luffy and the others are waiting for me."

Zoro opens the door for you and then follows you towards the school's hall; despite the late hour, many classes are still in session. For you this is a job, something that as much as you enjoy it you need to pay for your bills and food, but these people, the students of all ages who spend their evenings here instead that at home or enjoying their free time after a day of school or work, choose to do it and pay for the courses themselves. They do it for passion, hoping to turn an hobby in a job, to improve their skills with the pencil (or the brush, or the camera...) or simply to spend time doing what they love, without concern for the future or retribution.

It is nice, you decide, feeling strangely wistful for a moment; who knows if you'll ever find something to be so passionate about...

"Luffy says you're studying to become an accountant." Zoro says after a while, as you walk next to him, your muscles still a bit sore after an hour of stillness.

"I do; there is absolutely nothing artistic about it." you laugh.

"But you like it?"

"Many people think it is the most boring and arid profession in the world, but I like it a lot, actually."

"There you go then." he considers in a tone of approval "Who cares about what other people think?"

You smile back, and that sudden, pleasant confidentiality pushes you to ask a question of your own. "If I may... what do you carry those around for?"

"You mean my swords?"

"Yes. I have seen some original fashion accessories, but a weapon, never."

Zoro grins, openly amused, as he gently grabs the hilt of one of the swords, pure white, in a protective gesture... or maybe to show you how ready he is to draw it on a moment's notice "I use them; I'm a swordsman, I have been training since I was five." he proudly explains.

"And you use three of them?!"

"Exactly. One in each hand, the third in my mouth."

You can barely imagine a scene like the one he is describing (seriously, how can he use a sword holding it like that? Does he have a prehensile tongue?) but Zoro is clearly serious, which fills you with admiration. "So you are an artist and a sportsman!" you exclaim; it is strange, but somehow fitting as well, to imagine a person's hands having the strength to handle a weapon, and at the same time being delicate enough to use a pencil... two opposite, but equally beautiful, ways to channel his energy "Talk about the total package! I knew you were an athlete..."

"What do you mean?"

"... nothing. Err, do you attend a fencing school as well?"

By the time Zoro has finished telling you about his adoptive father, who has been his fencing instructor since he was old enough to hold a practice sword and who then adopted him when he was fourteen, you have reached Luffy and the others, waiting on or around a bench in the school's parking lot.

"Speaking about my father..."

"Yes?"

Zoro stops, forcing you to do the same. "I wouldn't normally do it, but Luffy says I can trust you." he says, looking at you right in the eyes as if warning you against disappointing your friend's trust in you, as well as his "My adoptive father... he doesn't know I study here. He wants me to focus on fencing, so when I was fourteen and I went to love with him, he asked me to leave the school; I told him I had but..."

"... you obviously didn't." you finish for him "And he doesn't know you come here, three times a week? And you had for years?"

He tells you it is not always easy to hide he spends many of his evenings at the schools, but fortunately he's old enough his father doesn't feel the need to keep track of his movements, and his friends and employer (his friend Kuina's father) cover for him. "It has been easier since I came of age, since now I can at least use the money my biological parents have left me to pay for the school. Before that I was a step away from selling my... well..."

"I see." you say, sincerely touched; poor Zoro, forced to hide something he loves doing because he fears disappointing his father, or being forced to abandon it. Isn't he old enough to decide what to do with his life? "What's your father's name?"

"Dracule Mihawk."

"I don't think I've ever met him, but if this is what worries you, I'll keep your secret; I promise I won't tell anyone. If you want, you can come to my place to draw; I don't mind, and you can simply tell your father you're visiting a friend."

"Are you sure?" Zoro asks; he seems... taken aback, as if he didn't expect such support from a person he has just met and who has refused to be paid for her trouble. But, not to sound presumptuous, helping people who pursue their dreams and passions comes natural to you; you wouldn't be Luffy's friend otherwise "That... would be perfect actually. My father usually comes home late in the evening, so we would be more or less safe at my place, but..."

"Why risk getting caught, if we can avoid it?" you reasonably point out "I... can come pick you up, if you want; to show you the way."

You quickly exchange contacts, and you find yourself smiling; becoming an accountant is still your first ambition, but the prospect of beginning a new career as a model is exciting. Even though the thought of taking your clothes off in front of someone you just met is still weird... especially if your public will be composed of a single man, in the more intimate context of your apartment...

Technically speaking, you have invited a man to your home to look as you get naked; the thought makes you blush again, even though you felt perfectly at ease as you posed for the students. Pull yourself together, (name)! After all, he wouldn't be the first, would he? Even though, it has been a long time since...

"So... we have a deal?"

"We have. I can't wait to pose for you - I mean, I'm happy to help you."

"I'll try not to waste your time then." Zoro promises with a new smile, happy and relieved, and you think he should do it more often, because he looks even more lovely when he does it... "Thank you, (name); really, I appreciate it."

You tell him not to mention it, and by now you have reached Luffy and the others, who have attentively listened to your conversation.

"Sorry I kept you guys waiting."

"No problem. You sure you can't come, Zoro?" Luffy asks, clearly disappointed he cannot have all his friends with him; he shakes his head, apologetic and sorry in the reserved, vaguely introverted attitude you have already learnt to know.

"Sorry, next time, I promise."

He grins at you. "See you soon."

"See you on Sunday, Zoro."

You wink at him, and he waves as he looks at you walking to Luffy and your new friends.

[1mlostnow]

BIRD LORE

Stevie ‘Bird’ Corcoran was born to Lillian and David on November 2nd, 1978. He grew up in a three bedroom apartment with his two brothers and two sisters in Seattle, Washington.

Physical description-> stevie is blonde with wavy hair that he wears in a mullet. He’s got hazel eyes, he’s 5’10, he’s got snakebite piercings, and a scar covering the left side of his face.

Backstory -> TW SH/SA/Neglect/Abuse -> Stevie’s mother, Lillian, left after the twin girls, Emma and Lilly (1985), were born. Their financial situation was already bad, but David completely denied their struggles and continued to spend like it was nothing. This forced the two eldest, Mikey (1976) and Stevie, to have to steal food for their other siblings. Danny (1979) was usually in charge of watching the twins. When they were old enough to stay home on their own, because there was no way David would be trusted to watch them (he acted like a teenager, he’d have his loud friends over until late hours watching football and playing poker). When they could stay on their own, Mikey and Stevie brought Danny on one of their ‘shopping trips’ but he tripped and fell, getting the three of them caught. Stevie stayed behind and took the fall while his brothers ran, and he was taken in by police (he was 17). David picked him up and kicked him out of the apartment. He moved in with Gabi and her parents for the remainder of his senior year of high school. During this stage of his life he was incredibly depressed and used sh to cope. This would go on for a while, even as he worked at PPTH. He had earned enough in scholarships and outside work that he was able to entirely afford to earn his bachelors and PhD at University of Washington, where he got…fruity…with his roomate, who dropped out after two months. -> During his time there, he met Lauren at a bar one night. He was drunk, feeling a hell of a lot of internalized homophobia, and decided to go home with her to “fix himself”. He changed his mind when they got there but she wouldn’t listen and he could hardly stand on his own. So he let her do whatever. She became pregnant with Anna, and they got married, because that’s how he was raised. -> Lauren and 4 year old Anna attended Stevie’s final graduation where he earned his PhD, and he informed her that he wanted a divorce. As soon as that went through, he moved to New Jersey. He got a job at PPTH in the forensics department, and he was informed on his first day that the department head had quit, moving him up to the position. -> Gabi moved up there soon after and they moved into a duplex together. He wasn’t in much contact with any of his siblings besides Mikey, but he occasionally gets Christmas cards from the others.

Workplace relationships and dynamics (still editing) ->

Emilie -> they have breakfast 😋😋

Cosmo -> acquaintances, they bring each other food

Syd -> Cousins :D

Hen -> like surrogate father type thing

Teagan -> yappers 😮‍💨

Reina -> she and Anna are besties

Ev -> boyfriends 😝

Flux -> they’re friends :) flux has been trying to tell him for years that he’s probably bi at the least.

I think he’s also close with Danny, Bruce, and Andy, and they’re what he’d consider his friend group. Also—zombiebusters!

This will be edited!! Also lmk if there’s typos 😝 or if sm doesn’t make sense

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Goose! Please tell me, is there a headcanon about Frank x Jodie's relationship that's been rotating in your mind but you haven't revealed yet?

Hi E!

YES! There is! I'll preface this with I'm pretty certain I've not mentioned it, but if I have, it will have been in passing; at least now I can go into a little more detail about it! I will also be adding a read more cause I think it's gonna get long-

One head canon I have for their relationship is how they ground each other in situations where their emotions either might be heightened or going through something mentally. For example, in some of my writings already, I've shown Jodie's moments of having little flashbacks, or reactions to certain stimuli that trigger a traumatic response due to her brainwashing (and general trauma). This is something that we could also attribute to Frank, too, given his long service in the military.

So, to get to the specifics, it's a small, subtle action. Simply, when either of them notices the other might need a little grounding, a reminder that they're not alone, or that they need to calm down, they will use their fingertips/knuckles of their fingers to either brush or tap lightly on the other person's hand/wrist.

The reason I've been thinking about it is because I knew that Jodie would be the kind of character that, when in turmoil, wouldn't want to be touched. If she's angry, upset, crying, she will not want to be touched (unless you asked and she invited it).

But I was also thinking that, especially given that Jodie has been brainwashed and Frank now has two people in his life that have gone through similar things, Frank would probably have a better idea of how to manage the moments where Jodie is 'not present'.

I've also seen it knocking around that Frank will also do something similar with Alex, those friendly pushes in cutscenes are a tactic Frank uses to make sure Alex is still grounded. Although I saw that after I'd already been thinking about this with Jodie and Frank, but it was nice to see that my understanding of Frank's character seemed to line up! Like, of course Frank would do something like that.

BUT Jodie does this for Frank, too.

I just thought having something so subtly intimate as a way for these two to interact in time of needing comfort (but maybe not wanting to be overwhelmed) is what will give me life right now.

BONUS: I had been speaking with @alypink regarding a face claim post I reblogged where Jodie's face claim, Kate Beckinsale, was wearing glasses. I do have a little headcanon that Jodie wears reading glasses to ensure she doesn't get eye strain.

POINT BEING, when they're in the workplace, maybe Jodie is reading some intel, combing through Birdseye view pictures of terrain - whatever it is. She's intently focused, enough that she wouldn't see Frank walking by. Just a little torment, maybe to break her attention for a split second (because this man knows Jodie will work herself into a hole and not take a break) he gently knocks the side of her glasses and sends them slightly skewed on the bridge of her nose.

Frank gives me an air of being able to be mischievously charming XD she'd look up at him, pouting with the glasses not corrected and he probably gets a little laugh out of it, whilst also achieving making sure that Jodie gets a small break (even if she doesn't realise that's his goal).

Sure he could straight up say, "take a break" but Jodie would also just be like "one more thing and then I will" but... respond that every damn time. Frank gets creative in making her break eye contact with the pages.

This headcanon is something a little softer, less serious, but thanks to Aly I couldn't stop thinking about that scene in my head.

[ihhfhonao3]

a non ship fic with trans and gay Apollo, and lesbian Trucy. A coming out fic where Trucy comes out to Apollo, then Apollo comes out to Trucy. Then something where they both come out to Phoenix. Phoenix is also bi and trans. :)

Finally finished it agagagagaggaga

It is. It is under the cut

“And that’s when I told him, ‘Daddy, you’re just being crazy!’” Trucy said, laughing.

Apollo chuckled as he sipped his coffee. “Well, Mr. Wright is a very eccentric character… I’ve come to learn that, let me tell you.”

The pair were on a lunch break, spending their free time at a coffee shop chatting about workplace gossip and co-worker drama. Apollo had come to find throughout their conversation that what happened around the agency definitely did not go over Trucy’s head. She was strangely knowledgeable about most things going on there, in fact.

Suddenly, Apollo saw Trucy’s fingers tighten around her glass of lemonade.

“Polly?” She asked. 

“Yeah?” Apollo replied, trying to ignore his perceive ability which was activating at her tension.

“Could you… would you mind taking your bracelet off for a moment?” Trucy asked meekly.

Apollo almost spit out his coffee. “M…my bracelet? I mean… Trucy, I’m not trying to upset you, but I barely ever take it off… is there any reason as to why you want me to?”

Trucy swallowed down a lump in her throat. “I… I wanna tell you something important. But I don’t want your ability to ruin what I have to say…”

Apollo sighed. “I mean, sure, I can take it off… but not for too long, okay? I get nervous when I’m not wearing it for a while.”

Trucy nodded as she watched Apollo struggle to slip off his bracelet. Apollo always forgot how his bracelet was meant to fit perfectly around his wrist, so it often was very hard to take off. Eventually, he managed to free his wrist from it, revealing a red, circular mark on his skin positioned where it was resting previously.

“Polly… your wrist!” Trucy gasped. “Is it supposed to look like that?”

Apollo laughed and scratched the back of his head. “Probably not, but I told you, I barely ever take it off… on top of that, the bracelet is meant to be a perfect fit around my wrist, but even perfect fits can leave painful imprints after a while… Hey, there’s probably a metaphor in that!”

Trucy stifled a chuckle as her eyes flitted around the room. Apollo took no notice of this.

“So what did you want to tell me?” Apollo asked.

“Well, I…” Trucy stammered. She started to pick at her nails a bit. “I um… you see…”

“Truce, are you alright?” Apollo asked. “You seem super nervous. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” Trucy muttered. “I just… this is pretty big news. I guess I don’t really know how to get it across.”

Apollo smiled warmly. “Well, I can wait. Whenever you’re ready, go ahead.”

Trucy exhaled deeply.

“Polly?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gay.”

Apollo sat upright. “You’re… you’re gay?”

Trucy nodded.

“Oh. Wow. Um, wow,” Apollo stammered, staring at her for a moment but then regaining his composure. “Wow, that’s uh… that’s totally cool, Truce! That’s super awesome for you. And um, I guess I have to confess something myself, then!”

Trucy looked up. “What is it?”

Apollo grinned and said, “I’m gay too! And uh, I also used to be a girl! I’m transgender!”

Trucy’s mouth hung open for a moment, before she closed it shut abruptly. “You’re… you’re gay too? And you’re trans?”

“Yup!” Apollo said proudly. “And just between us, old gay guy to young gay girl? I think it’s awesome that you’re confident enough to tell me this. I’m super duper proud of you.”

Trucy giggled. “Aw, thanks Polly! I’m proud of you too!”

“Not to pry or anything, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but… have you told Mr. Wright about it yet?” Apollo asked.

Trucy sighed. “No, I haven’t. You’re the first person I’ve told, actually.”

“Call me selfish but that makes me feel kinda special!” Apollo grinned.

Trucy playfully shoved Apollo from across the table. “This isn’t about you, Polly! Listen to me for a sec!”

Apollo stopped talking and slipped his bracelet back on, miming closing his lips shut with a zipper.

“I just… how did you come out to people?” Trucy asked. “How should I go about it, do you think? It’s a bit different when I tell you, because you’re technically my subordinate, but… how do I tell my dad? ”

Apollo sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I can’t really help here, because I never really came out to people. Either they weren’t active enough in my life for me to care to, or I felt like it was more my business than theirs, so I didn’t owe them an explanation on anything. Now that I think about it, you’re probably the only person who’s gotten a full admittal, honestly. Besides Clay, of course.”

Trucy raised an eyebrow. “So what, you’re saying that you have no clue? That isn’t very helpful, Polly.”

“No no no, that’s not what I’m saying,” Apollo chuckled. “I mean, I guess it is a bit, but… If anything, I’d say just come out to him like how you came out to me just now. It doesn’t have to be particularly special or different just because he’s your dad.”

“So like… coming out by just diving right in?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, just diving right in!” Apollo repeated. 

“Alright then, let’s go!” Trucy said as she stood up.

With Apollo visibly confused, Trucy explained; “I wanna go back to the agency to tell my daddy!”

“Right now?” Apollo grumbled. “I haven’t finished my coffee yet.”

Trucy ended up grabbing Apollo by the arm and dragging him out of the coffee shop. 

~~~

The pair ran part of the way back to the agency until Apollo got a cramp and insisted that they walk the rest of the way. As they walked, Trucy recited what she was going to say and convinced Apollo to come out with her, to make it less nerve-wracking. After a couple of minutes of practicing with each other, the two finally arrived at the agency. They barged in and rushed into Phoenix’s office, causing him to jump in surprise.

“Trucy! Apollo!” Phoenix half-shouted. “You guys scared the living daylights outta me!”

Trucy giggled. “Sorry daddy, but we both have big news! Can you meet us in the main room? Like, right now?”

Phoenix looked confused but obeyed, standing up from his desk and following the pair into the main room. Phoenix plopped down on one of the couches, and Trucy and Apollo seated themselves on the couch across from him.

“Do you wanna tell him your news first, Polly?” Trucy asked. Apollo got the hint and nodded.

“Mr. Wright, I have to tell you something!” Apollo said confidently, trying to show Trucy that nothing was going to go wrong.

“I’m listening,” Phoenix said, clearly a bit unamused.

Apollo grinned and said, “Mr. Wright, I’m gay! And I’m a trans man!”

Phoenix didn’t react. “What else is new?”

Apollo covered his face with his hands. “Am I that obvious?”

Phoenix started to reply, but Trucy stopped him.

“Daddy, wait!" she cried. "I have a confession too!”

“What is it?” Phoenix asked.

Trucy took in a deep breath. Phoenix and Apollo were both looking at her now. It was her cue!

“Daddy, I’m…” Trucy stammered. “Daddy, I’m gay too!”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment, but then smiled and stood up, stepping over to the other couch and enveloping Trucy in a hug.

“I’m glad you told me that, sweetie,” Phoenix said softly. “And I’m glad that you’re comfortable enough around me to do so.”

“I kinda knew you wouldn’t be upset or anything, but I just didn’t want it to be awkward,” Trucy giggled.

They hugged each other tightly for a moment, Trucy clinging on to the back of Phoenix’s suit coat, up until Phoenix noticed that something was missing. Or, namely, some one.

“Aw, c’mere, kid,” Phoenix said as he grabbed Apollo and wrapped him into the hug. Apollo looked taken aback but smiled warmly, wrapping his arms around his two bosses.

Eventually, they broke away from their group hug, and Phoenix sat back down. “If we’re coming out to each other, then I have to come out as well,” Phoenix said slyly. “I’m bisexual. And I’m trans too.”

Trucy couldn’t help it, but her jaw dropped open. “How did I not know this?”

Phoenix chuckled. “Miles is practically my partner, Truce. If you haven’t been able to put two and two together, that’s more your fault than anything. Plus, you’ve seen me without a shirt on before, whenever we would go to the pool! What did you think those weird scars on my chest were from?”

“I always thought that someone tried to cut you with a knife, but they missed!” Trucy said. “I didn’t know it was from a surgery!”

“Well yes, I actually have been threatened with knives before,” Phoenix mumbled to himself. “But that’s not what those scars are! At least, not those specific ones.” Phoenix winked.

The trio shared a laugh and Trucy stood up.

“Daddy, where is everyone else?” Trucy asked.

“Still out on lunch break, I think,” Phoenix said. “Why?”

“Because I have to come out to all of them too!” Trucy beamed.

~~~

Over the next couple of days, Trucy came out to practically everyone she knew personally, with an influx of overwhelming support and love from everyone she told. She started to change her wardrobe, buying button pins and flannels, and even convincing Phoenix to change the colored confetti she used in her shows from blue and pink to different shades of orange, magenta, and white. Luckily, the only people in her crowds that noticed were the ones that were going to support her nonetheless. Not only that, but Trucy was also warmly welcomed into a large net of fellow lesbians within the agency and the Los Angeles prosecutor’s office. Needless to say, she ended up very happy with her decision to come out to so many people, and almost unsurprisingly, many of those who she came out to were queer as well. This connection and love inspired Trucy so much that she took it upon herself to plan for the prosecutors and the agency to go to Los Angeles Pride together when June rolled around.

And naturally, everyone went.

[rlyc00l]

Maybe Rhys is adjusting to his new life as an outlaw. Maybe he can make this work. He hasn't died yet, and he's even getting used to the place's smell. But, on second thought, he wants to go home and never set foot on Pandoran soil again. Getting rich in the process would be a nice bonus.

(Chapter also posted under cut)

— — —

Rhys didn’t move from Knuckle Dragger’s corpse until the Vault hunters finished dispatching the last few bullymong. It took as long for his heart rate to return to normal, and his left hand to stop trembling. 

When it was done, he had to step around dead bullymong, through blood-spattered snow, to reach the others. They’d all been wounded, except maybe for Zer0, who’d walked off as soon as the last bullymong fell. Salvador had been bitten in his forearm, Maya had a gash on one calf, Axton’s face was swelling up after being hit with a hurled chunk of ice, Gaige had a huge bruise on her right arm, and Krieg was so covered in blood it was hard to tell how much of it was his. They were taking a breather to rest and tend to their wounds. 

“Now where’d my eye get to?” The Claptrap had gone into panic mode again during the fighting. Now he’d reemerged and started ping-ponging a path through dead bullymong. 

“Just stay still for the moment, we’ll get it,” Maya called after it, impatiently. She’d taken a seat on a bullymong corpse as she bandaged her leg—wounds like this didn’t warrant wasting precious instahealths.  “Zer0 took it,” Rhys said. “Dunno where they went.” 

She sighed. “Of course they did. I guess they won’t go too far as long as we still have Claptrap… You’re missing a shoe, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah.” The star pattern on his right sock had darkened with melted snow and blood. His blood, he realized. He must have stepped on something as he’d run away, and it sliced through to the bottom of his foot. It was bleeding profusely, but it didn’t hurt yet. 

“Hold on.” Maya dug through her little first aid kid, producing a couple of square-wrapped antiseptic pads and a roll of bandages. “Krieg drank my saline wash, and I wouldn’t trust the snow here. You’ll probably want to clean it better when we get to Liar’s Berg.” 

Rhys knelt, setting the gun down close to him (he needed a better way of carrying that thing around). The snow melted into his pants as he cleaned the wound, he was getting accustomed to that discomfort. Once bandaged, he half-hopped back through the shipping container. He found his shoe half-buried on the other end, wiped it out, and put it on. The stun rod wasn’t far from that, sticking out of the ground, no worse for wear. 

After retrieving his belongings, he searched out Zer0. They’d gone further up the path on their own. An abandoned Hyperion drop barge blocked the way forward. On one side was a steep drop back to Knuckle Dragger’s lair, the other an impassable cliff. Zer0 was looking at the barge’s door, ellipses projected from their helm. 

“Hey, uh, Zer0,” he greeted. This was the part where he was the bigger person, the guy who inspired loyalty in his underlings, the workplace relations guy. 

They turned to him, the ellipses changing into a question mark. “I just wanted to thank you. For before?”

“I needed the space.” They produced another gun from their holster, a black and yellow Dahl pistol. “This one is superior. / And, it’s corrosive.”

“I mean, yeah, thanks for that too, It would have been nice to have that from the start, and all but.... I was trying to thank you for saving me back there.” 

“You disappointed,” they said. “Next time, aim for the beast’s throat. / A more certain kill.” He stared at them. “Have you ever talked to another person, like, ever?” 

“Yes.” They turned back to the barge. There was a door on it with a little digital-optical scanner on the side.   

Hyperion tech like this was easy to open with his ECHOeye, and he guessed he owed Zer0, but it was hard to want to repay that debt. He’d wait for the others to catch up first. 

That wasn’t a long wait. The Claptrap sped ahead of them, chattering. “The road to Liar’s Berg’s on the other side of this barge. What say we cut through it, chums?”

“You’re not gonna be–” The Claptrap rolled right past Rhys, to the scanner. “Aaand OPEN!” 

“Intruders detected. Locking door,” an automated voice replied, predictably. 

“You’re discontinued tech,” Rhys said, activating his ECHOeye. “I can-” 

“Let me get that for you.” An unfamiliar woman’s voice spoke in his head. Projecting from the barge’s scanner was a woman’s face. The same one he’d seen when he’d collapsed. “Executing phase shift.” 

The door opened. 

“Yes! I knew I’d get it eventually.” Claptrap rolled on ahead of them. 

“You’re welcome! Perks of being an artificial Intelligence. I’m networked into almost everything in this planet,” she said.

“Is um, is everyone hearing that?” Rhys asked, still half afraid he had a virus. 

“Yep,” confirmed Maya. “She spoke to us a little after Jack tried to blow us up. You hadn’t caught up by then.” “So… Uh…How exactly..?” “I think she’s eridium powered,” Gaige said. “You put enough eridium into anything and it’ll start breaking the laws of physics. Among other things.” 

“I guess that tracks.” He’d heard plenty of murmurings of “weird Eridium shit” back on Helios, and he’d seen a few E-tech demos. The best summation of eridium he could manage was “It’s basically magic”. Plus, he was standing five feet away from a siren, who was even more “basically magic”. 

It was a downhill trek after the barge. The small town, Liar’s Berg, lay at the bottom. “Town” might be a generous word for what it was. It was more a cluster of frozen little buildings surrounded by a wall made from blocks of ice and scrap. But it did somewhat resemble civilization, Rhys had to give it that much. 

Zer0 had gotten ahead of them again. By the time they reached the ridge overlooking the town,  Zer0 was already set up with a sniper rifle, picking off townsfolk. 

“Bandits,” they explained, before anyone could ask. Rhys decided that was credible enough.  Besides, by Jack’s most conservative estimates, Pandora was ninety-five percent bandits, between Dahl’s former prison labor force, abandoned Crimson Lance soldiers, and the lawless treasure hunters that swarmed the planet like flies. Decent people just didn’t come to this planet. 

The bandits that were foolish enough to peer out of cover to return fire fell quickly, and before long, the town looked lifeless. Zer0 stood, shouldering their gun. “I counted twelve more. / They took shelter in buildings. / I will kill them there.” 

“At this rate, I’m tempted to stand back and let you try that,” Maya said. 

Zer0 was already heading down the incline. And maybe the Vault hunters followed Maya’s leadership in some respects, but they didn’t wait for her orders to advance. Except for Krieg and Rhys. 

Krieg paced like he was barely restraining himself from running down the hill after them. “The shiny one’s innards aren’t suffering yet!” 

“Eh. It might be fun,” Maya allowed with a shrug. “Let’s go.” Rhys had hoped to hang back again, let the others do the fighting. The cut in his foot was starting to hurt. But there were more bullymong holes in the walls here, he didn’t want to get caught alone with another pack of them.

He limped after the two of them, allowing himself to fall behind. 

He walked into the town, holding the gun at his side. The ground here had been trampled by numerous footsteps, revealing the dark stone beneath the snow. He passed a burn barrel still flickering with fire. A dead bandit was slumped over it, his face and shoulders charred. More corpses lay in the street. Many of them had no marks but a single hole through their head, Zer0’s work, but there’d been more deaths since. A lone, dismembered leg. A body sliced open vertically. Another covered in bullet wounds. A huge hole blown out of one’s chest. 

The sounds of combat had moved further into town. Rhys followed the gunfire, not in any hurry. If he timed it right, he’d catch up as they were finishing, without making it obvious that he was intentionally sitting things out. Vaughn’s high school gym class strategy.  

A man stumbled out from behind one building. He wore a mask over a pair of goggles, obscuring his entire face. Acid had eaten away the side of his jacket, revealing the melted flesh underneath. He looked straight at Rhys. Worse, he pointed his shotgun straight at him.

“You also worth a million? Jack’s offering a million for Vault hunters.” 

“Do I look like a Vault hunter?” Could he lift his pistol to shoot the guy before getting shot himself? 

The bandit looked him up and down. 

Oh god, wait, would the pistol even shoot? Was it even loaded? It would be just like Zer0 to empty the gun before giving it to him. 

“You look Hyperion,” the bandit said. “Exactly. I’m important up there. You kill me, you and Handsome Jack are gonna be having a problem.” Wait, did this thing have a safety? Was the safety on? How did he tell? 

“Already have a problem with Jack.”  …Shit, he should’ve tested it earlier. 

The bandit shifted, barely an inch. Rhys lifted the gun and pulled the trigger, again and again until the gun stopped firing, and then some after that. 

The bandit fell, dead. 

Rhys stood, frozen, staring at the corpse. The holes the gun made looked tiny. There didn’t seem to be much blood, considering how many times he’d shot him.  

He’d made it far in Hyperion without ever killing anyone. It wasn’t a moral choice, it just didn’t seem like his style. Now that he had, he didn’t even feel bad about it. Hell, he felt great. He laughed, strangely giddy. And a little shaky. Somewhat nauseous. 

“You have surprised me. / I thought he’d blow your head off. / Congratulations.”  

Rhys turned around to see Zer0, sitting on a dumpster, legs crossed. They projected a smiley face. A bucket of sewer water on his victory. 

“...Were you there the whole time?” “I was after him.” Zer0 gestured to the body. “Coward. Ran when I shot him. / But you found him first.” “I could have used some help.” “He didn’t kill you. / And you proved entertaining. / Hyperion guy.” 

He felt his face heat up. “I had to try something! He was pointing a gun at me! I didn’t know if this thing would work!” 

They stood. “The first shot killed him. / You wasted all that ammo. / You should search the corpse.” They flashed him a “:D” and walked away. 

“Ugh.” At least they hadn’t taken the shotgun. A Jakobs double barrel, old and worn-looking. They probably already had something better. 

The bandit wore a belt with a few pouches slung across his chest. Rhys unbuckled it and checked the pouches. Those netted him a handful of loose bullets and a half-empty box of shells. He wasn’t sure how to reload the pistol–shameful, for a Hyperion employee–but a scan with his ECHOeye gave him the necessary instructions.  

Afterward, he attached the belt to the shotgun, turning it into a makeshift sling. If he was going to be stuck on Pandora for a while, he’d need to get one of those digi-holsters the others had. And if it was gonna be this cold… Nearby lay one of Zer0’s victims, a bandit, lying on his back with half of his brain blown out. He was shorter than Rhys but much broader, and his jacket was far from the most disgusting thing Rhys had seen on this planet. It had a few duct tape repairs, a seam on one shoulder had worn apart, and there were a number of questionable stains, but there was barely any blood on it, and Rhys was tired of being cold. 

He unzipped it, pulled the limp arms through the sleeves as far as he could, then flipped the body to yank it the rest of the way off. 

— — —

Liar’s Berg had one living, ostensibly non-bandit resident, Sir Hammerlock. Hammerlock was a fellow cyborg, and despite his esteemed prefix and general air of class, his robotic parts were even more shoddy than Gaige’s. Still, he gave them a warm enough welcome, offering up his home to the Vault hunters for the night. He even had real food, bullymong-meat-free. Granted, it was all canned stuff, but canned beans on thawed-out toast felt like a luxury.

“Hyperion, are you?” he asked, upon introductions. Rhys had made the mistake of taking off his newfound jacket in the heated house. Betrayed by his uniform again. “I hear it’s not easy to defect from a man like Handsome Jack. At least, not without dying horrifically. Well, good on you, I say.” 

Rhys, for his part, managed an awkward laugh and a, “Yeah… We’re definitely gonna…gonna show him.” He tried not to think too hard about Jack’s earlier ECHOcomm. None of the Vault hunters seemed afraid of Jack, but they all possessed some strange deficiency in the fear center of the brain. And they didn’t know the man. They’d never had their coworkers disappear, only to learn their last known location was Jack’s office. Jack was a fantastic leader, but he was not to be crossed. The best Rhys could hope for, as a “traitor”, was to keep his head down and somehow survive Jack’s scourge of Pandora. He could take it day by day. Now? He’d faced a bullymong and killed a man. That had to be something. 

That night was spent on a couch in Sir Hammerlock’s house. He fell asleep almost as soon as he lay down, his dreams of Helios. He’d shoved Vasquez in the airlock and shot him out into space, and was swiftly promoted to associate vice president of Security Propaganda. Zer0 was ther. Dream logic deemed them his secretary. They wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses over their helmet and carried a clipboard.  

“Next time, I’d recommend not shooting him out the airlock,” they told him in much too long a sentence. “You’ll have more fun if you’re there with him. A knife, perhaps… By the way, you have a meeting at seven with–” 

“So, Rhys was it?” Handsome Jack said, entering his office. 

Rhys perked up. “Yes, sir! Is there something you need? Always glad to be of service, Handsome Jack, sir.” “Are you seriously asleep already?” 

“Wh-what? No, I was just preparing the report on the–” 

“Wake up dipshit!” Rhys jolted up, gasping. Jack had sounded so real, he had to look around the room to reassure himself he wasn’t there. “You up? Good.” Jack’s voice again.  

“J…Jack?” He lifted his right hand. Was it his built-in ECHOcomm? The screen wasn’t on… “I can imagine you’re freaking out, so I’ll spell it out: you’re hearing my voice in your head, dumbshit. Yeah, yeah. Relax. It’s a feature all Hyperion ECHOeyes come with. Fine print stuff. So, about earlier.” “I can explain—I—” “Shh. Don’t talk. You can text me through your ECHOeye, but for right now? Shut up for a second. Obviously, you’re a loyal Hyperion employee who got screwed over, right? I got the whole story out of ol’ Wallethead.” 

“W-wallet—?” he started, before remembering he wasn’t supposed to talk. 

“Anyway, here’s the deal: these idiots think you’re harmless, right? Maybe they even think you’re one of them? You’re gonna use that, help me out a bit here.” “What do I do?” he sent. Using the ECHOeye to send text was new to him, it was harder to control than just using his arm interface. 

“Nothing big. For now? You’re a Vault hunter. Fight alongside them, gain their trust. Once you get into Sanctuary, I have a few things I’ll need you to hack. A little spying, a little sabotage. That kind of thing. Easy, low-risk stuff.”

Rhys nodded, half terrified, realized Jack couldn’t see him nod, and sent him an “Ok.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll contact you again when I need you.” “Yes, sir.”  “You let me down? I’ll be sure to personally strangle the life out of you—after reclaiming the Hyperion tech in your skull. Capeesh?” “Yes, sir.” 

“Attaboy. You do good, and I’ll send a shuttle to get you back up to Helios, where there’s a promotion with your name in it. How does President of Security Propaganda sound? Don’t bother answering. Hell, I’ll throw in a couple turbo mansions. Now, get some sleep.”

Sleep was impossible, after that. Part of him was exhilarated, just when he’d lost hope of ever going home, Jack had given him the chance of a lifetime. The kind of chance he could have worked on Helios for the rest of his life without ever getting. And it was the only chance he had at surviving, he knew that now. 

The other part of him was terrified. He didn’t know which would be worse: failing Jack or getting caught by the Vault hunters. The latter was a risk he’d have to take. They already trusted him, Jack had made sure of that by labeling him a traitor. He could be sneaky, he’d already stabbed plenty of backs on Helios. 

There was a third part, too. A small part that kept welling up as much as he tried to push it down. It wasn’t a part worth paying attention to. These people were doomed anyway.

[serialkirah]

i'd like to tell a story that not a lot of people in my life know about

it's about how the anti-trans movement and a family business ruined my relationship with my grandparents.

so, i'll start at the beginning, and i'll try to make it brief, but it's all kind of important.

my grandfather started a business when i was born, in 1997. it took quite a few years until it took off. it was a lot of hard work. i won't say exactly what it is, because then this post loses it's anonymous touch, but it's a farm that sells something unique (not weed, ok).

when i was growing up, i begged my grandfather to work there. i wanted to make money, and i wanted to spend the summers at my grandparent's house. they finally let me work there when i was 12.

back then, i was a little girl in a workplace dominated by men. there were porn calendars in the lunch room, even. i fell behind a lot, as most of the men working there were tanks, but i liked doing my part as there were really only four of us back then. i worked every summer.

i liked spending time with my grandparents. my grandfather even back when i was a kid always had white hair - the stress of running this farm sucked all the pigment out of his hair. he has a dark skinned tone, a gruff look about him, and he's fairly short (as the rest of his family, myself included). he's the type of guy who loves being outdoors; clearing the land, hunting, fishing, tapping maples, landscaping - that kind of thing.

my grandmother has always had dark brown hair, and even now looks fairly young for a grandmother. she keeps her hair shoulder length, usually tucked into a ponytail, wears the same black tshirt and capri pants or blue jeans almost everyday, and she's always been into interior design, decorating, flower arrangement, crafting and gardening.

i loved doing things together with them. i could be outside all day burning grass with my grandfather, then spend the evening painting furniture with my grandmother.

my manager at the farm was my uncle, my grandparents son. he was my favourite person, and he was such a great boss. he was this tall, big guy who always wore a leather vest, black t-shirt, and ripped cut off blue jeans and these huge black boots. he was a metalhead, so intelligent, and effortlessly funny and charming. i grew up without my dad in my life, and at some points during my childhood, my mom and him lived in the same building and shared a car, so he's always been someone i was close to. in 2007, he had a baby, and at some point, since my baby cousin and i were always together, i had begun calling him "dad" - i even called my own mom "auntie" a lot! not all the time, just when i talked to my cousin. he's sort of a sibling, more than a cousin.

as the years went by, my uncle relied on me even more. i became his assistant and began helping him with the business side of the farm. my grandfather sat me down when i was about 16 and asked if i'd like to take over the farm. his son didn't want to take it over, and i seemed competent and interested. i decided to go to college for this very niche industry, and to do that i had to go away to the only college in my country which had a program dedicated to it.

the year i left for college, my uncle died from a heart attack. my whole family was devastated, my cousin was left without a father, and my grandparents never really got over it. he was their golden boy, the guy they relied on to run the complicated side of their business, and it took a toll on their personal lives as well as their business. my grandparents took custody of my cousin.

it was difficult to overcome the deep depression i experienced after his death, and i even neglected my studies that year. it was like losing a parent to me. if it wasn't for the friends i made in college, i probably would have had a much harder time. but i obtained a graduate certificate in 2019, in the end.

around this time, i also came out to my grandparents as transgender. i was starting my transition from female to male, and i wanted them to be aware it was happening. i've been out to them since 2017, and to my other friends and immediate family i've been out since 2014. they took it like the average grandparent would, confused and uneducated, but they managed to swallow their opinions and accepted that it was going to happen. it did involve me striking for a few months, but they eventually needed my help when the pandemic started, and they asked me to come back to the farm. i assumed the position of manager. i moved into company housing, just down the road from work, and began working full time.

it was a difficult adjustment to become assistant manager to a manager that had passed away and didn't leave instructions. even though i had gone to school for this specific industry, i hadn't gone to school for business administration, so i was essentially taking over business duties with no training. i had to teach myself a lot, or learn from other colleagues. my grandfather was a knowledgeable man in business and farming practices, for sure, but when it came to technology, accounting, traceability, compliance, human resources, auditing, inventory, resource management; he needed help. even though i became his right hand man during this time, running the business alone for a few years took a severe toll on his health and in the beginning of 2020, he was diagnosed with cancer.

he had to take an extended break while he was receiving treatment. and i was there to take over his duties. even before he took a break, i was doing everything from audit prep to inventory tracking, environmental data collection to representing the company at conferences, media appearances to health and safety training, guided tours to project management. now, i was also in charge of all daily operations, scheduling, communication, and a team of eleven people. on top of that, i joined a board of directors for an association related to my farm. the very business that turned my grandfather's hair white in just a few short years was now turning my own hair white at 23.

that's all to say - i think i was doing very well. my coworkers and i got along very well, and everything always moved smoothly. but enough was never enough for my grandparents, and i was constantly berated for everything i did.

i think the stress of losing their son with the addition of the cancer diagnosis caused a negative change in my grandparents. over the course of three years, the same people who i loved spending every summer with became aggressive, argumentative, sarcastic, mean-spirited. i started spending more time at my own place rather than eating supper with them almost every night. i skipped afternoon coffee and long talks with my grandmother, because i couldn't stand listening to her increasingly manic religious rants about how nobody has morals these days, they just do whatever they want. i stopped talking about anything other than work with my grandfather, because he started becoming increasingly aggressive and indignant whenever he wasn't caught up on daily activities at the farm, and especially so when i had everything handled correctly. he was able to overcome his cancer, and was declared cancer free. he decided to rebuild his house, so he still took time off, but would still come to the farm to get angry about this or that.

i was becoming so stressed that i would call my mother every other day to seek advice. i started to wonder if my grandfather was ever going to retire and let me run the business without his constant surveillance and micromanaging. i was so stressed that i started psychotherapy to attempt to balance both my emotions and career.

then, i fell in love with the girl that worked at my local coffee shop. i had asked her to hang out as friends at first, but she was the one who kissed me first. we began dating in january of 2023, and she changed everything. she was there to help me understand that getting screamed at everyday for unimportant things wasn't normal. that working 7 days a week for three years with no days off wasn't healthy. that forbidding me to take time off to see my friends, do anything fun, or even spend my free time making art was incredibly fucked up.

finally, in the spring of 2023, my grandfather dropped a bomb on me one day. i had mentioned to him that i was doing really well with the mutual aid program i created for trans youth, and how i'm working with a lgbt youth group in town, and like a man possessed, he began spouting off about transgender people. yeah, i just don't like those transgender people. those men are always cheating by winning women's sports. and they beat women up did you know that? if women don't let them into the bathroom they beat those women up. they go in there and rape women and kids.

i was shell shocked by this outburst. i had never heard this opinion from him, and it was as if he had this whole rant locked and loaded, ready to spring up when given the opportunity. where did this come from? i asked. it's all over the news, i've seen videos on youtube, it's all true. there was no convincing him. even when i tried to appeal to common sense, or share an empathetic viewpoint. but you know, i'm transgender. obviously, not all trans people are the same. i don't do any of those things, and of all the trans people i know, none of them do that either. i think what you're watching is propaganda. but he insisted that this was real life, and ended up walking away grumbling about it.

i cried to my girlfriend that night. i was reaching a limit that i couldn't exceed. she held me and suggested that maybe i should walk away. i should save up my money, and i could go back to school, and i could do something i enjoyed. i was comforted, i agreed, and i began to plan my escape.

not even two weeks later, my grandfather burst into my office again, and asked, what's all this he/they shit? at first, i was a bit confused about what he meant, but then i realized, ah, you mean my personal pronouns that i use?

he looked so angry, and he had this crazed, unrecognizable look in his eyes - the type of look he would give to people who hurt his family. it terrified me. yeah, whatever, it's in your emails, take that shit off of there, it doesn't belong in business emails. i could feel my anger rising, and my throat felt tight, but i still managed to say it's my email signature, so that when people call me or address me, it's the way i want them to, just like my first name. it's not a big deal, everyone does it. you don't have to have one with your email signature, but i include mine because it's important for communication.

i don't give a shit. you're a she, your name is -----, you do that on your own time, but you need to be professional. take it off your emails. i stared back, shocked and honestly frightened. i could say yes, i'll take my pronouns off my emails, then i could apologize and continue working there. but something in myself would die.

no, i said.

no? he repeated.

no, and this conversation is over. i closed my laptop and brushed past him. he sputtered and screamed at me to take it off my emails, but i ignored him and went home.

i discussed it with my therapist, my girlfriend, my mother, and my sister. i decided to suggest therapy to them. three days later, i sat both my grandparents and my mother down. we were outside, sitting on a patio set facing each other.

i tried to talk about what happened, and after hearing the way they ranted about transgender people, how they were bad people, how they were sinning, how they didn't want pronouns in their business, how i was ruining their business by doing so, how i was using them in order to gain more support for my mutual aid that helps trans youth, and how i'm not respecting them, i suggested family therapy. they rejected the idea, and became even more indignant.

i stressed that forbidding me to use my proper pronouns and my correct name (which was a legal name), was against the law, and they said they didn't give a shit about the law. what are you going to do, sue your own grandparents? my grandmother scoffed at me. no, but if i was anybody else that you were doing this to, they could sue you, and they would win. at this, she got up from her seat and began ranting about how disrespectful i was being to my grandparents. she grabbed my wrist and yanked me around while she yelled, and raised her hand to smack me.

now, i want to pause here and explain something. obviously, this is an extreme reaction. it's also a common reaction from my grandparents during arguments. i know some may baulk at the idea of your grandparents or parents using corporal punishment, but it was a common thing, and sadly, it is part of a larger issue - intergenerational trauma caused by residential schools. i don't think i've mentioned it yet, but my family and i are native.

much of my family grew up in the residential school system, a schooling system ran by the catholic church and the canadian government for indigenous children. this system was mandatory, and parents who tried to hide their children were punished by the law. it's main purpose was cultural genocide, and the nuns and priests that ran the school physically, sexually and emotionally abused native children. many kids died from experimentation, neglect, malnutrition, unsuitable living spaces and were also murdered. the rate of death at these schools were so high that they had cemeteries on site, and many children were buried in unmarked graves. in that environment, my great grandparents survived those schools with many wounds, and had their own children sent to these schools. this is also where my grandparents went to school. they didn't need to send their own children there as they moved away to the city in the late 70s. but even some of my mother's friends had gone to residential school. in that regard, my grandparents have been deeply damaged by the system and by their upbringing. they're emotionally stunted, they resort to screaming instead of communicating, and their last resort is to lash out, sometimes physically. it's not right, by any means, but i just want you to understand that there is more under the surface.

back to my grandmother. she's ready to strike me, she's got my wrist, and i've just had enough of this. the way they've responded so far is beyond unreasonable, and any call to common sense is lost on them.

i slowly slackened my arm away from her personal space and into mine, opened my palms in a relaxed way, and pulled them behind my head softly until she let go, then put my hands in my lap and softened my face, and said, hey, let's stay in our seats. she knew that i was attempting to de-escalate the situation, felt insulted, and lashed out verbally instead. she jabbed a finger in my direction and spat, you trans people are all the same.

with that last sentence in mind, i turned to my mother, who had sat silently in tears the entire time. i don't think this is going to work, i said to her.

then why don't you quit! my grandmother yelled from her seat.

my grandfather said, fine, _____ either you do what i told you to do or quit.

i turned to my grandfather. so as your manager, if i don't let you break the law and violate the conditions of your 3rd party certification, i have to quit?

my grandmother's voice was hoarse, and she was repeatedly screaming in the background, so they don't you quit! why don't you quit! quit then! we don't need you!

i maintained eye contact with my grandfather. are those your feelings as well? not just her feelings?

he was struggling to look at me. that's the way i feel, too.

i stared at him for a few seconds while my grandmother continued to scream and rant. finally, i said, okay. this is my two week notice. but you only have two weeks to change your mind - after that, i'm gone.

i wish i could say that he thought long and hard over the next two weeks, and decided that he had been too much. i wish they decided to reel in their opinions for the greater good of their relationship with their family. but their business (and their religious views i suppose) was ultimately more important to them. in two weeks, i set up another manager with all my tasks - properly, the way i should have been - and left.

my grandfather urged me to move out of the company housing within those two weeks in not so many words. my grandmother suggested i move far away, and told me not to tell anyone what happened. it was seconded by my mother, who believed telling everyone would be unprofessional. i was scared and uncertain, i decided to lie to everyone and tell them i quit because i wanted to go back to school, or to change my career. i had to move in with my mother, two hours away from my girlfriend, and i had to sell my truck to afford my car payments. it was very difficult to overcome the rift in confidence the whole thing caused me, but eventually with the help of therapy, my girlfriend and my family, i slowly gained that confidence back.

now, i'm slowly opening up to more people about what happened. eventually, i will tell everyone, but not as a way to bring my grandparents down. i don't want to be like them in that way. i want to tell people when i feel okay again, when i feel confident, and when i have more stability in my life again.

i've been able to move into a house that i rent with my girlfriend, my sister, and my sister's boyfriend. we're creating a fun and colourful space to live in, a place where we feel good. my sister is going back to school and my girlfriend and i are looking into it too. after a long break, i'm also resuming activities with my mutual aid program. i've also joined the board of directors at my city's pride activity planning non-profit organization. lots of exciting stuff.

i'm going to be 27 in about a month. i spent 14 years working for my grandfather, and although somedays it feels like a huge waste of time, i still have a bunch of skills that i otherwise wouldn't have ever learned. i only wish it translated to a better paying job in the city, haha.

when i think about what my grandmother said, you trans people are all the same, it doesn't fill me with as much hurt as it did that day. cuz now i think about all the wonderful trans people i've met in my life and i think to myself - yeah, that's okay. if trans people are all the same, let me have the same kindness, the same humility, the same bravery, and the same forgiveness. because at the end of the day, i value those things far more than i would ever value money or ego.

i hope this story wasn't too boring. i know i'm just one of thousands, maybe millions of trans people that go through the same stuff everyday. but i appreciate being listened to, so thank you. if you want to be friends, follow me! i'm trying to use tumblr more often.

see ya! :]